


Meanest hunk o' woman

by anonymouslyme8



Category: Star Wars Sequel Trilogy
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - College/University, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Alternate Universe - Roller Derby, Canon-Typical Violence, College, F/M, Light Dom/sub, Or at least roller derby-typical violence, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Power Play, Roller Derby
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-09-21
Updated: 2020-03-24
Packaged: 2020-10-25 14:42:30
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 10
Words: 33,443
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20725901
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/anonymouslyme8/pseuds/anonymouslyme8
Summary: Ben is dragged to a roller derby match by his roommate, and a certain player catches his attention. He tries to resist his attraction to her, especially when it becomes clear that she is not interested, but when they keep running into each other, it seems the universe has other ideas. Modern, college AU where Ben is a PhD student and Rey is an undergrad. Rated E for future chapters.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * For [5cents](https://archiveofourown.org/users/5cents/gifts).

> Thanks to [@5cents](https://archiveofourown.org/users/5cents/pseuds/5cents) for the idea. Turns out Reylo Roller Derby Queen was something my brain wanted to run with. Might have something to do with my wlw tendencies, but who’s to say? 🤷♀️
> 
> Kink just kinda…crept in there already, although there’s only references to sexual topics at this point. Definitely expect smut in future chapters. Smut is part of who I am as a fanfic writer, fam. Tags and tropes will be updated as appropriate. Still not sure how long this ride is gonna be so hang on.
> 
> All knowledge of roller derby from the movie _Whip It_ and Wikipedia, so please forgive any inaccuracies. Some of the derby names are mine, some are snagged from lists on the internet.

Ben didn’t know why he let his friends drag him to these things. He had never been the most social sort of guy, and usually going out just made him miserable. God, it was loud and claustrophobic in here, crowded into the stands and enduring the psychedelic flashes of strobe lights, and even free alcohol didn’t help. Roller derby. What the hell had he been thinking when he said yes?

His roommate had guilted him into it. Alex might’ve been a Ph.D. student just like Ben, but he acted like a gen stud idiot, always out late with his friends and his girlfriend. Was there a Ph.D. in partying? Because that’s all Ben thought Alex could qualify for. But, Ben’s mentor had been onto him recently about not socializing with his peers—apparently, the other Ph.D. students and post-grads found him abrasive and anti-social—and Ben thought maybe this would pacify him.

“Are y’all ready for some action?” the announcer screamed into the mic, causing a brief screech of feedback to echo in the rink.

Fuck, was the PA system going to be this loud the whole time? The speakers sounded like they had already been blown out from years of abuse, and Ben thought his eardrums would follow if he had to endure this all night.

The crowd around him surged, screaming and clapping. For fuck’s sake. Roller Derby wasn’t even a real goddamn sport. At least Football paid well, even if it was foolish and dangerous. And, football, was outside, where the echo of the crowd wasn’t so deafening.

Ben shouldered his way back out of the stands, thinking maybe he should just head back to his apartment. He could lie and tell Alex he had left with a girl. Besides, he had some work in the lab he would love to catch up on.

“Tonight’s match-up involves long-time UT student league rivals: the Rebelettes and the Starkillers!”

At least in the back, near the refreshment stand, the PA wasn’t so overbearing. Bearable, even. He might as well get another drink before he left. After all, Alex had left his tab open.

The bar (or, more accurately, the haphazard arrangement of kegs and liquor bottles) had emptied dramatically. Apparently, these people were really into the roller derby thing. He ordered another craft lager, intending to suck it down as quickly as he could stomach, but morbid curiosity led him to stand in the gap between bleachers that led out towards the rink. Doing his best to appear uninterested, he leaned on the concrete pillar, crossing his unencumbered arm across his chest. After all, he was a red-blooded male, and what guy could resist girls in tight clothes playing a contact sport?

“I’m assuming by the second matchup of the season, y’all are familiar with the rules.” The announcer was still shouting. Didn’t he know the microphone was on? “But then again, who wouldn’t be distracted by this view?”

It looked like the teams were taking some sort of warm-up/introductory laps around the rink. One of the teams was dressed in brown crop-tops spray-painted with a burnt-orange logo and the other had mock-military uniforms, complete with insignia plaques on their chest. The announcer was droning through some attempt at being funny as he explained something about “jams,” “iammers,” and “blockers” and something about how points were scored. It seemed the “jammers” had to pass the “blockers” to score points, and the “blockers,” as the name implied, tried to prevent it. It sounded inane and violent, and Ben made to turn away, ready to down his beer and get the hell out of there.

Holy shit.

One of the women in the brown crop tops had made brief eye contact with him, an accidental connection at best. Ben didn’t even know if she had even seen him, as he was leaned well into a shadow, but her gaze caused his breath to catch in his chest. The look in her brown eyes had been positively __feral__. He had never seen a woman look like that, ready to throw down.

He liked it.

Maybe he could stay for just one round. “Jam.” Whatever.

“Alright folks, for those of you who are new here, we’ve got the Starkillers, reigning champs of the student league.” A mix of cheers, jeers, and boos answered. “Aww, Rebelettes, don’t cry. We love you too.”

The Starkillers were the team in the faux-military uniforms. None of them caught his eye the way that other woman had, but Ben admitted that the chrome helmet one of them sported was an amusing fashion statement. Some of them had tied their shirts up to reveal their midriff, and there was an even mix of short skirts and shorts, bare legs and fish-net tights. All of them wore dramatic makeup, and many of them had tattoos on their exposed skin. Ben could admit he saw the appeal to the sport, even if it wasn’t all that compelling to him, personally.

“The team is led by ‘The Grand Admiral’—No, he won’t tell me his real name, and yes, it hurts my feelings. Blocking for the Starkillers in this round are #34, ‘The Femme-peror’—she’ll make you kneel, folks.

“Number 82, ’Death Starlet.’” One of the girls—‘Death Starlet,’ Ben supposed—slapped her ass suggestively as she skated around the track. “That’s no moon, y’all!

“And give it up for, #76, ‘Darth Skater.’ You can choke me anytime, girl!

“And let’s not forget #45, ‘Barbie Fett’—Feel free to hunt my bounty.”

Ben suppressed an eye roll. From the way the crowd was cheering, this campy announcing was part of the sport and not as annoying to them as it was to him.

“Last, but not least, the Starkiller’s jammer. Give it up for the infamous #66, ‘Captain Phasma,’ or as I’ve been known to call her: 'Chrome Dome!'”

‘Captain Phasma’ flipped off the announcer before turning around to skate backward around the slanted track. She pumped her arms for cheers and applause, but the crowd was already wild. Obviously, 'Captain Phasma' was a well-known player. She was certainly tall, and from the looks of her, very strong. It would hurt to be body-checked by her, no matter who you were. The chrome helmet Ben had noticed earlier had been covered by some sort of fabric thing, adorned on both sides by a large star.

“Alright, calm down folks, save some of your cheers for the underdogs—everybody loves the underdogs, right?”

Light boos came from the crowd at that, but they seemed mostly in good humor. Ben looked around quickly, seeing the homemade signs for players on both teams. Most of the crowd looked to be undergrads, reveling in new-found freedom and the leftover hormones of teenage years. Definitely not his crowd. He didn’t see Alex out there, but there were a lot of faces and the lighting made distinguishing them tough.

“Let’s welcome the Rebelettes! Still sore from their Number Two tourney placement last year, they’ve got their eyes on the Starkillers!

“These ladies are led by their coach, ‘Fight-or-Die-lot.’ Is that a forced pun on fighter pilot? Beats me. Okay, there’s #22, ‘Jessika Stab-it.’ Careful, honey, stabbing’ll land you in the penalty box, if not jail!”

Ben craned for a view of the woman from earlier, but she had skated off the track to join a small huddle of her teammates and her coach. She, too, had the fabric cover with stars over her helmet. Is that how they designated the—oh, what did they call it? The jammer?

“Don’t underestimate #12, ‘Rosie D. Ribhitter'—Ouch, boys, she’s a feminist! And watch out for #14, ‘Te-Rebel Attitude!’”

Ben’s eyes were still on his woman’s back. She was gesturing tightly at her teammates, but Ben wasn’t sure if they were strategizing or arguing. After a moment or two, she turned and returned to the rink, skating quickly to catch up with her teammates, who were taking their places on some sort of starting line.

“No metal bikini on #89, ‘Princess Slaya,’ but she looks pretty good anyway. And that just leaves the Rebellettes Jammer: #8, ‘Death Rey.'”

She had already taken her place next to ‘Captain Phasma’ on some sort of separate line behind the others, which must have had to do with their position as team jammer. ‘Death Rey.’ She certainly looked like she meant business, her theatrical dark eye makeup highlighting the determined glint in her gaze. Even from here, Ben could see a large purple bruise on her thigh, peeking out from the hem of her shorts. Occupational hazard, if Alex’s description of this sport was accurate.

“The girls look ready—should we set them loose?”

The crowd roared in unison, and the bleachers shook with the stomping of hundreds of feet. Ben was suddenly not as bothered by the noise, but whether that had more to do with the alcohol or ‘Death Rey,’ he wasn’t sure.

A whistle sounded, starting the match, and the women tore forward like a stampede on wheels. Contact between the players was almost instantaneous, as the pack of blockers threw themselves into each other. The jammers’ job seemed to need mostly speed and agility, as ‘Captain Phasma’ and ‘Death Rey’ endeavored to beat each other to the front of the pack from the back. ‘Death Rey’ was quicker, Ben noted, but ‘Captain Phasma’ made good use of her size, simply pushing through the mass of skaters. The announcer droned on, giving some sort of play-by-play commentary.

But Ben had eyes only for ‘Death Rey’ as she passed him, her powerful legs pushing her forward like a lion in for the kill. When she was body-checked by one of the Starkillers—he had forgotten their names already—she hit the floor hard. She was on her feet again before Ben had even finished wincing, and she returned the favor by checking the player into the rail.

‘Death Rey’ cut a ruthless path through the players. She crouched, flying underneath ‘Captain Phasma’s’ attempt to block her. She turned to skate backward, made some sort of signal to her teammates, and turned again, turning from a predatory lion into a racing cheetah as she worked to lap the pack again. Fuck, she was hot, her powerful muscles working beneath her tanned skin, carrying her around the track with the grace of a dancer.

“Damn, look at that freshman go!” The announcer’s words broke through Ben’s reverie, and he decided he might like this sport after all. "'Death Rey’ is on FIRE!”

Making a second pass through the pack, ‘Death Rey’ let out a savage, wordless cry. Her teammates reacted as if cogs in a well-oiled machine, changing formation to open a path for their scoring player. She passed through easily, this time skirting attempted contact by the opposing team until ‘Captain Phasma’ caught up with her. 

This time, it seemed ‘Phasma’ was angry, pushing forward to try and not only pass her but also to get ‘Rey’ off her feet again. ‘Rey’ ducked the first attempt from ‘Phasma,’ and ‘Phasma’ lost her temper, her elbow flying back into ‘Rey’s’ face.

Blood poured down ‘Rey’s’ face, her nose probably broken, as the ref called a penalty on ‘Phasma.’ Elbow contact was, apparently, illegal. Made sense, given the large plastic elbow pads the players wore.

But ‘Rey’ didn’t stop.

She wiped her face roughly with her arm, throwing a spray of blood onto the track, and when her coach tried to end the jam, she shot the man a death glare unequaled on this planet. So, with blood still pouring down her face, ‘Death Rey’ continued around the track.

Ben, hypnotized by this strange, feral woman, didn’t immediately recognize the feeling that came over him. It wasn’t until he reached down to re-adjust himself that he realized he was half-hard. Fuck, something was seriously wrong with him, getting a boner over a woman with a broken nose. But he couldn’t tear his eyes away from her until the jam ended and her coach shoved her onto the bench to stem the flow with a towel.

Suddenly embarrassed, realizing he was some sort of sick bastard who was, like, getting off on a woman getting hurt. Disgusted with himself, he turned and strode to his car.

It wasn’t about the injury, obviously, he argued to the ashamed part of his mind. It was that she was a fighter, and determined to the last. She could probably kick his ass. That was hot—still kinky, the shame-voice admonished him—but hot, all the same. He had never considered that he might be into BDSM, but—well, that was an introspective journey for another time. Right now, Ben needed a cup of coffee and a cold shower, and not necessarily in that order.

Ben started his car. Two things were for sure: one, he was a little bit scared of ‘Death Rey’ and two, he would not be going to roller derby again.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you to everyone for the lovely comments. I'm hoping to update semi-consistently, like maybe on a Tuesday/Sunday schedule? We'll see!
> 
> <strike>Still no fucking in this chapter, though. Hold on tight folks, it might take a while.</strike>

Rey was tightening her skates when Poe sat down next to her, leaning over conspiratorially. Poe coached the Rebelettes team under the ridiculous moniker of “Fight-or-Die-lot,” but he was also Rey’s friend. Well, more correctly, Poe was Rey’s best friend Finn’s _other _best friend, but Rey had adopted Poe too at this point. That’s what had gotten her into roller derby this year. It had been part interest on her part and part a dare on Poe’s part, but she never would’ve gone through it without his involvement in the sport.

“You see that guy?” Poe said, not quite a whisper so he could be heard over the pre-match crowd noise.

Rey followed his gesture to a man sitting in the bleachers. The man was in the second row back, sitting alone and sipping out of a plastic cup, trying very hard to appear like he was __not __staring at Rey. He seemed vaguely familiar, like a stranger she may have passed on campus before. How would she not remember a face like that? He carried an unconventional attractiveness, even despite a nose that was a bit too large for his face. His dark chin-length hair partially concealed a strong jawline. Most appealing were his broad shoulders, although Rey supposed that could be a trick of the lighting, throwing everything into shadows.

“Yeah,” she said with a one-shouldered shrug. Poe had a reputation for sleeping with anyone attractive that so much as breathed in his direction, and, while Rey didn’t begrudge him the fun, she didn’t always want to know about them.

“He’s been at every match so far this season. Always seems fascinated with you. Seemed like a creep, so I asked Finn about him.”

“Okay,” Rey said cautiously, finally having adjusted her skates to her liking. She reached up to buckle her helmet, trying to ignore the man’s gaze now that she was all-too-aware of it.

“Turns out he’s a Ph.D. student in Finn’s department. Nobody likes him. Apparently, he’s some sort of prodigy or something, but also a major-league asshole sellout who turned in a competing student for something bogus to steal a grant out from under him.”

Poe liked gossip more than one-night stands, and he was almost vibrating with excitement as he relayed it to Rey. Rey would’ve settled for “he’s an asshole and Finn says so,” but she didn’t want to deny Poe the pleasure of telling the sordid tale.

“His previous mentor at the other university threw him out. Finn says the only reason he got a spot here was because his current mentor __hates __the other guy and wanted to use Ben to bring him down.” Poe threw another lengthy glance towards the Ben guy, biting his lip. “Too bad, though. He’s pretty hot.”

Rey rolled her eyes, elbowing him in the side. “You done? We got a match to win.”

Poe looked at her, this time with concerned eyes. “Watch out for him, okay? He might just like roller derby, but if he’s stalking you we need to call the police.”

Rey scoffed. If the bruises and scrapes she had taken without complaint this season hadn’t convinced him she could take care of herself, what would? “Yeah, yeah, __dad__.”

Poe put his hands up, palms towards her, in a clear gesture of surrender. “Hey, not trying to overstep, here. Just trying to be a friend.”

Rey smiled, letting her derby persona slip just a little. “Isn’t it time for you to be a coach?” she asked, gesturing at the clock. Two minutes until showtime.

“Shit,” he said. “Yeah. Rebelettes, huddle up!”

The morning after a match, Rey always woke up sore. In return, she had gotten into the habit of treating herself to an iced coffee from the pretentious hipster coffee joint near campus on her way to yoga. She always intended to make it to the sunrise class, but it always took longer than she planned to haul herself out of bed and scrape off the makeup she had missed the night before. She was doing well if she made it to the 9 am class, but this morning she had invited Rose (aka “Rosie D. Ribhitter”) along and they were aiming for the 10:30.

That also meant there was more of a line at the coffee shop when she arrived. Ah, well. She had gotten there early to cram for the pop quiz she expected in her chemistry class this afternoon, but she felt pretty confident on the info and if she had less time to study it probably wouldn’t be the end of the world.

Twenty minutes had passed and she was still standing at the end of the counter, waiting for her coffee. Rose would be there in about 40 minutes so they could walk to the yoga studio. At this rate, she might get her coffee by then. Bored, she turned and walked over so she could read the fliers on the bulletin board by the creamer.

“Large iced coffee with caramel,” called the barista, and Rey turned to grab her drink.

Aw, shit. She had completely forgotten her yoga mat was sticking out of her bag so far, and as she turned, the foam struck the back of the head of someone sitting at a table. Startled, she turned to apologize, but not before the man reacted.

“Stupid fucking yoga hipsters,” he said, too loudly to be a curse to himself.

There was the sound of a chair moving against the floor, and Rey whirled to find herself face-to-neck with the owner of said voice. She was unable to control her face when she recognized him immediately. But then, he looked just as comically surprised as she felt, and Rey instantly knew that Poe had been right when he thought Ben had been coming to the matches to watch her. Rey felt heat rising up her face from her collarbones, and for a moment, she wasn’t sure if she was more indignant or embarrassed.

“Excuse me?” she said angrily, realizing she had nothing to be embarrassed about. It had been a total accident, and she was half a second from apologizing when he had cut her off with that curse.

Somehow, he seemed to shrink under her gaze, either ashamed to realize he had been recognized from his stalkerish attendance at her matches or ashamed that he had been so fucking rude just now. Satisfied she had him on his toes, she turned more carefully to snatch her drink off the counter. The whole cafe was staring at them, she realized, but she wasn’t going to let it go just because she didn’t want to make a scene.

When she faced him again, he was still standing, his eyes darting uneasily between the coffee in her hand and her face. In response, she pointed at him with the hand holding the plastic cup, brandishing it like a weapon.

“I was going to apologize to you for my clumsiness,” she said, her voice carefully cold, “but now it seems you owe __me__ an apology.”

He flinched almost imperceptibly in her icy stare. It was, of course, this moment that Rose chose to walk into the cafe, apparently also arriving early to procure some coffee. Rey watched Rose stop uneasily in her peripheral vision, Rose’s eyes following the rest of the patrons’ eyes to the confrontation at hand.

“Sorry,” Ben muttered, dropping his dark brown eyes to the ground in front of her.

Maybe it was because Poe had told her that this man was a total dick who deserved a little humility, but Rey kinda liked the way he squirmed under her gaze. “Excuse me?” she said softly, containing a multitude of warning in those two words.

He swallowed, glancing back up at her. This time, he spoke clearly, if quietly. “I’m sorry for being rude.”

She dropped her finger, softening her bearing and smiling sweetly at him. “And I’m sorry for hitting you with my yoga mat. Have a good day!”

Deliberately ignoring the eyes that followed her, she bounced over to join Rose, who had settled into a table with a good view of the display. Rey set her bag in an empty chair before sitting down across from her friend and taking a sip of her coffee.

“What was that about?” Rose said, sounding amused.

“Rude fucker cursed at me because I accidentally hit him with my yoga mat,” Rey said. “Didn’t even give me a chance to apologize first.”

Rose laughed, raising her eyebrows in disbelief. “The Rey I knew at the beginning of the semester would’ve bashfully apologized and made her exit as quickly as humanly possible.”

Rey felt her cheeks redden and tried to hide her embarrassment behind another sip of coffee. “Roller derby may have…given me some confidence,” she admitted. “I kinda like being the baddest bitch out there.”

Rose laughed out loud, and Rey was suddenly afraid the cafe would stare again. “I knew it would be good for you!”

Trying to change the subject, Rey reached into her bag to pull out her chemistry textbook. “Don’t you need to order some coffee or something? We have a few minutes before we have to head to yoga.”

Rose shook her head in amusement as she rose from the table to join the line. “Don’t be embarrassed, Rey. I think ‘bad bitch’ looks good on you. So did that guy, if I read him correctly.”

Rey rolled her eyes, even though Rose was no longer there to see it. She didn’t give two shits if that guy liked her. If Finn’s report and her own experience were accurate, he was a huge jerk that didn’t deserve the time she had already expended thinking about him. Sighing, she dropped her eyes to the textbook, determined to study at least a little while she had the chance.

A couple of minutes later, she felt someone approach from behind her. Assuming it was Rose, back from ordering her coffee, she didn’t look up until there was a chocolate croissant set in front of her.

She looked up at the barista, prepared to tell him that she hadn’t ordered any food.

“Courtesy of the man over there,” the barista said, pointing back towards the counter and bulletin board.

“Thanks.”

When she looked up, prepared to find Ben staring back at her, she was startled to see an empty chair. What in the world was that man playing at? Did he think insulting someone and then sending them a pastry was charming behavior? What a child. Apparently you didn’t need to be mature to earn a Ph.D.

Her stomach growled, and she begrudgingly took a bite of the croissant. No college student turned down free food, after all. As she chewed, she couldn’t help but remember the tiny thrill in the pit of her stomach when he had shrunk away from her sharp gaze. Maybe it wasn’t the most ladylike of impulses, but she kind of wanted to see that reaction again.

Not from Ben, she corrected herself quickly. From someone she liked. And if it was in the bedroom, all the better.

Fuck, what had roller derby awoken in her, anyway?

* * *

Ben __hated__ working in the coffee shop, but his mentor had to have a meeting with his labmate—fucking Armitage Hux—__in the lab__ this morning, and the cursed undergrads were still in the library this early in the semester. The only thing he hated more than the coffee shop were chatty undergrads in the library. At least the coffee shop was far enough off-campus the majority of idiots hadn’t found it.

He sipped black coffee out of his travel mug, staring spitefully at the spreadsheet in front of him. Crunching data was the least enjoyable part of his research, and he planned on hiring a statistician for the final payout, but he needed to figure out if his research was coming to anything long before he got to that level. Engineering students had to like math, he argued to himself, but they didn’t have to like __stats__ (which was basically evil math).

Having been kicked out of the lab early this morning, he had been in the coffee shop for hours. The line waxed and waned, with a rush both early morning for the pre-work crowd and about now for the mid-morning, hungover college student crowd. At least the hungover part meant most of the patrons were relatively quiet, and he could stew over his spreadsheet in peace.

“Large iced coffee with caramel,” called the barista. Typical basic undergrad girl drink.

Fuck!

Something smacked into the back of his head—hard! He didn’t even need to turn to know it had been a yoga mat. Those things were fucking menaces, too large to be politely carried in crowded public establishments like these. And besides, the people carrying them always thought they were so much __better__ than everyone else because they did yoga.

“Stupid fucking yoga hipsters,” he said out loud, not really caring if the iced coffee, yoga mat-toting bimbo heard him.

He leaped to his feet, ready to confront the chick and tell her off to her face, only to find himself staring down at __‘Death Rey.’ __

He had been completely unprepared to actually see this woman anywhere outside of the roller derby rink, and several conflicting emotions ran through him at once. The shame and arousal he had felt at that first match came first, followed swiftly by embarrassment that he had cursed at her, and coming in last but not least was a new type of chagrin at the face she was making at him. She recognized him, that much was clear, and if the blush spreading up her neck was any indication, had seen him watching her on the rink at least once.

God, she looked so different in the daytime. She wore barely any makeup, revealing a pleasing scatter of freckles all over her face. Her hair was pulled back into two meticulously messy buns, her bangs pinned to the top of her head. Outside of the rink, the intensity in her eyes took on a different gleam, whip-smart and driven instead of feral. Her yoga outfit revealed her shoulders and buff arms rather than her midriff and legs, which, if he was honest, was just as distracting.

“Excuse me?” she snapped, interrupting his once-over. The blush from her face had already faded, and she did not look like the kind who was going to let this go.

Not the reaction he expected, admittedly. He had made a habit of being rude in public, partially because he didn’t like interacting with people, and partially because being nice had backfired in the past. Usually, people just ignored it and moved on, but this woman was not going to do that.

The look on her face somehow made him feel small, which was absurd given the fact that he was a good 6, 7 inches taller than her. If anything, she should’ve felt tiny in front of him, but when she turned to get her drink (her yoga mat not coming near him this time), he wondered if she would throw her coffee in his face. The whole coffee shop was staring, so it wouldn’t be a private humiliation.

But, she turned back to him with careful muscle control, pointing unapologetically at him with the hand that held the coffee. Drink throwing was not yet out of the question, it seemed. He wondered if she was as aware of the watchful eyes as he was, or if she cared.

“I was going to apologize to you for my clumsiness,” she said, her voice cold, “but now it seems you owe __me__ an apology.”

He flinched before he could stop himself. She had a point, he conceded. It would be hypocritical to ignore all the times he had bumped against someone in a crowd due to his size, and he hadn’t given her a chance to apologize. Even more appealingly, the whole mortifying ordeal would end if he gave in to her, and he couldn’t wait to get out of here.

“Sorry,” Ben muttered, dropping his eyes in a gesture of submission. Well, submission and the fact that if he looked at her a moment longer he was either going to blush like a schoolgirl or get very aroused, and he didn’t care to do either.

“Excuse me?” she said, and while her voice was just quiet, he sensed that he had just royally fucked up.

He swallowed, his saliva feeling thick in his throat. He hazarded a glance at her face, only to see a placid but stern countenance. For a moment, he thought about pretending to not understand what she wanted, just to see what she would do.

No, that was just fucked up. Swallowing his pride this time, he spoke clearly: “I’m sorry for being rude.”

The shift in her persona was instant and incredible. She smiled, a gorgeous, radiant expression that looked like it belonged to a supermodel. Graciously, she responded: “And I’m sorry for hitting you with my yoga mat. Have a good day!”

Just like that, she bounced off toward a table where another girl already sat. One of her derby teammates, if he remembered correctly. God, had she seen the whole thing? Humiliating. This whole day was going just horribly.

He shut his laptop in frustration. He certainly couldn’t stay here now, not with everyone bearing witness to his dressing-down by a five-foot-seven undergraduate holding an iced coffee. Besides, if she was going to stay, he would never be able to concentrate.

Shoving his things into his backpack with less care than he should have, he considered a thousand possible actions. He thought about going over to her table, telling them he watched their derby team and hoped to see them around (ridiculous, considering what had just happened). He thought about walking past her table and hitting her accidentally-on-purpose with his backpack, just to see how she reacted (petty, but not as ridiculous as the first option). And, finally, he thought about just being a nice person and taking the high road.

It ended up being the last option that he chose. If he was going to be a doctor someday, he had to start acting more magnanimous than he felt. Leaning over the counter, he softly asked the barista to send a pastry over to her table, leaving a twenty on the counter and indicating the barista could keep the change.

Alright, ‘Death Rey.’ Here’s to never seeing you that closely again.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As always, thanks for kudos and comments. Y'all are the bee's knees.


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for sticking around, y'all. Settings in this chapter are fictional, as far as I know. 
> 
> As always, thanks so much for comments and kudos!

Next match, Rey was surprised to see that Ben didn’t show. It was barely a blip on her radar, but she did notice, which she already considered a loss for her own sanity. Why she gave even half a brain cell's worth of consideration to that idiot was beyond her.

“Y’all decent?” Poe called from outside the locker room.

It had been a tough match, but nothing like the fight the Starkillers put up. Hell, no one had even broken a bone. The group had showered and changed by now, so they called out that Poe could come in. Rey was pulling on some floral combat boots, and the other girls were discussing if they should go out and party, given it was Saturday night and all.

“COACH!” the group cheered as he entered, hauling in a case of Shiner beer.

Jessika clapped an arm around him, reaching into the box to start tossing the cans around. Most of the girls on the team were juniors and seniors, well over the age of 21, but Rey and Rose were both under the legal drinking age. __At least__, Rey thought, catching a can thrown her way, __on my __real__ ID.__

__“__Nice job all around, girls. Y’all got a little cocky, though. Not everybody’s gonna be as easy as the Wicked Wheels.”

Poe’s arm snaked around Jessika’s waist, and Rey wondered if they were fucking. Jessika wouldn’t be the first to end up in Poe’s bed. But, they all knew what he was about, so if she wanted him, the more power to her. Poe was hot, in the obvious rugged guy kind of way, and if Rey was into that sort of thing, she might be tempted herself.

“We gotta go easy on the Wicked Wheels, Coach,” Kaydel called from her position on the bench. “They’re all freshmen!”

Now Kaydel was more Rey’s type. Sarcastic and headstrong, she had inherited her mother’s quick wit and passion for the game. Kaydel even took her mother’s derby name, Princess Slaya, to honor her when she had passed away a couple of years ago. She slouched on the bench, one knee up on the wood seat, still wearing her metallic gold signature eyeliner.

“Alright, so maybe Slaya has a point,” Poe conceded, raising his can in a toast. “So what about it, girls? We going out tonight?”

They let out a cheer, as close to a unison affirmative as they were like to get, and Rey shrugged on her team jacket in anticipation. If they went to their usual joint, a rowdy speakeasy-style underground pub called Resistance, they would even get a free round in celebration of their victory.

Rose hooked her arm through Rey’s elbow as they walked out into the warm Texas night. The football team had played earlier that day, and Rey honestly hadn’t heard who’d won. Either way, the bars would be full of people drinking in celebration and drinking to forget. All the better for the partying, but also all the better for their more secret spot.

Poe slipped out of Jessika’s grasp, slipping back to talk to Rey. “He didn’t show tonight,” Poe said, and he didn’t have to specify who he meant. “Something happen?”

Rose looked between them, confused. “Who?” she said, then gasped. “That guy? From the coffee shop?”

Rey looked at her, honestly surprised Rose had guessed that from such little information. Poe, however, was much more interested in why Rose said it like __that__.

“Okay, what? What happened at the coffee shop?” Poe’s thirst for drama was unending, and Rey would bet $50 that she could prevent him from going home with Jessika tonight just by promising to tell him what happened at the coffee shop if he stayed.

“I’ll tell you, but can we wait until we get to Resistance? I only want to tell it once, and if Finn hates this guy as much as you say, he’ll want to hear it.”

“It’s worth the wait,” Rose added, elbowing Rey gently.

“Ugh!” Poe protested. “Fine. But, you’re lucky it’s only a couple more blocks.”

Resistance was crowded, but no more than usual. It was a pretty well-kept secret, and only a relative handful of grad students and their friends had earned the password. Poe not only knew the owner but also had earned the honor when he had finished his Master’s last year. Of course, it had also become the unofficial roller derby bar when Poe and the Starkillers’ coach started frequenting it, and after matches, it was almost guaranteed to be crowded with derby girls and fans.

One of their friends spotted them heading in and called out to the crowd: “Ladies, gentlemen, and in between, give it up for tonight’s champs, REBELETTES!”

There was a smattering of polite applause and one or two whistles and cheers from their fans and friends. Some of the Starkiller girls were also around. Rey spotted Maddie, aka ‘Captain Phasma,’ chatting with her girlfriend in a secluded corner.

Poe didn’t even pause to scope out the place, jumping over the railing down the short set of stairs. “Finn!” he called out to the bartender. “A round for my WINNERS.”

Finn, who from the looks of things had anticipated Poe’s request when the Rebelettes had started to file in, waved to Rey and Rose. Finn had a handsome and friendly face, which if Poe was to believed earned him great tips. Finn certainly loved his gig as Resistance bartender, as the place was only open Friday and Saturday night, leaving him plenty of time to study during the week.

Resistance was crammed into what used to be a basement storage facility for the apartments above it. The landlords, after years of renting specifically to graduate students, decided to open up a little hangout for them on the ground floor, and it kinda grew from there. The walls had even been decorated with bits-and-pieces previous tenants had left behind in storage, including a rusty bicycle, a dented trombone, and an abstract nude painting that almost __had__ to have been a student project.

Rey and Rose made their way to the bar. Most everybody knew each other by this point in the semester, as the room couldn’t even hold 150 people at a time. The other patrons got annoyed when Rose, Rey, and Poe leaned between them at the bar to chat with Finn, so by now, they just made a space for them to sit. The other girls fanned out to their regular tables after grabbing their drinks, and by the time Finn was free enough to join them at the end of the bar, Poe was practically trembling with the effort of not asking __what happened at the coffee shop__.

“Alright, guys, what’s new?” Finn asked, sipping a rum and coke that he kept stashed below the counter.

Of course, Poe had kept him in the loop about the Ben situation, given that Finn had dropped the original information about Ben, but this was the first of the five games so far this semester that he had missed and that was definitely news. Rey hadn’t even seen Finn since last week, they had both gotten so busy with their extracurriculars, hence not having a chance to tell him about the coffee shop drama.

“Apparently __something__ happened with Ben at a coffee shop,” Poe said. “Rey wanted to tell us both at once, so I’ve been waiting patiently.” At Finn’s confused expression, Poe clarified. “Ben missed the match tonight.”

“Really?” Finn said. “And here I was assuming he was creepily stalking you. Or is he?”

Rey sighed. “No. Or at least, I don’t think so. But he was at the coffee shop the other day when Rose and I met before yoga.”

Poe raised an eyebrow suspiciously and Rey shook her head.

__“Working,” __she scolded. “He didn’t even see me when I came in. It was super busy, so I was over at the end of the counter, waiting for my drink. It was taking a little bit longer--again, they were slammed--so I wandered over to read the fliers on the bulletin board.”

Finn looked at Poe, and they both made a face. “Boring story, so far,” Finn commented, dodging automatically when Rose reached across the bar to swat at him.

“Well, they finally called my name, and I turned back to the bar, but I totally forgot my yoga mat was sticking out behind me and,” Rey cringed, still embarrassed, “I totally whacked him in the back of the head with it.”

Poe looked doubtfully at Finn, who was wiping the same glass for the tenth time. “Okay…Kind of a letdown, Rey. Doesn’t explain why he was a no show.”

Rose, looking very pleased with herself, giggled. “Oh, that’s not the end of the story.”

Rey looked down, tracing rings on the wooden bar top with her finger. “I tried to apologize immediately, of course, but instead he said, and I quote, ‘__Stupid fucking yoga hipsters.’”__

“Oh my god,” Poe said.

At the same time, Finn said, “Quietly?”

“No,” Rey said, still not entirely believing the whole thing had happened. Was anyone that cartoonishly rude in real life? “At a normal speaking volume.”

“What a __dick__,” Finn said, his attempt to clean the glass forgotten.

“So what did you do?” Poe asked.

Rey felt her cheeks heat. She still didn’t understand why she had reacted so strongly; she had made a scene and that was unlike her. She preferred not to be noticed, with the notable exception of the derby rink, and she wasn’t convinced the way she had enjoyed making Ben squirm was entirely normal.

“She told him off!” Rose said a little too gleefully when Rey didn’t answer. “She made __him__ apologize, and when he didn’t enunciate, she made him apologize __again__.”

Oh my god. Could a sinkhole just open up and swallow her? God, she didn’t even need to look at Poe and Finn to know the faces they were making. Finn would be reluctantly impressed and a little disappointed in her. Poe, on the other hand, would be giving her a suggestive and very approving expression that somehow managed to hint that Rey should fuck Ben.

“Oh my fucking god,” Poe said, with a touch of awe. “You made him feel teeny-tiny, didn’t you? You know, people pay a lot of money for that sort of thing.”

“Stop!” Rey said, quite sure she was red as a tomato by now. “It wasn’t like that.”

Rose laughed, shaking her head. “It totally was. Did you forget I was there? The poor man bought her a chocolate croissant, as a thank you for the public humiliation.”

At that very moment, when Rey was quite sure she would rather die than endure another moment of this conversation, someone near the other end of the bar called for a drink. Thank goodness, a chance to change the subject. Automatically, everyone’s eyes followed Finn’s motion as he looked for the source of the voice.

Was this some sort of cosmic joke?

Down the bar, forcing his unusually large shoulders between two people to make a space, was Ben. Because Rey wasn’t feeling embarrassed enough, he had to show up at the tiny, secret bar that she hung out at with her friends. Ugh! He was a grad student, and he had just as much right to be here as her. She knew it. But that somehow made it worse, like it was taking away what should have been indignant anger.

Rose’s fingers were digging into her thigh, right into a fresh bruise from practice this week. As if Rey wouldn’t have noticed! Please! But she couldn’t take her eyes off of him for some reason, couldn’t find her voice to tell Rose to let up.

And then, Ben’s dark eyes met hers across the bar, and he very effectively broke the spell.

“Fuck!” Ben cursed, rubbing his hand over his forehead and back through his hair. “I’m not stalking you I swear.”

Except, he kind of yelled it, because they were at opposite ends of the bar and the music and voices were kind of loud. Which meant about 20-some-odd people turned to look at her. At least it startled Rose enough that she let go of Rey’s leg, which was something.

Rey shot her very best death glare directly into Ben’s eyes. “Ben,” she said in a firm voice that brokered no dissent, “can we speak __in private__?”

Huffing in annoyance, she looked back at Poe and Rose. Rose, for her part, was trying to keep her face neutral. Poe, in addition to a pretty lewd gesture with his hands, was waggling his eyebrows suggestively.

Rey strode over to Ben, took him by the wrist, and guided him over to a more secluded corner. Trying to decide what she would say, Rey looked him up and down. He was dressed in a plain black sweater and blue jeans, and he was wearing glasses. Ben wore glasses?

“How do you know my name?” Ben asked as if he hadn’t just reassured her loudly that he wasn’t stalking her in a crowded bar.

Sighing, she gestured with her head at the bar. “Finn’s a Master’s student in your department.”

He took a half-step back, looking a little insulted. “You guys talk about me?”

Rey squinted at him, not quite believing he could be a Ph.D. student and be that thick. “You showed up at every one of my games and, according to my coach, leered at me the entire time. You think we’d just ignore you?”

“Hey, hey!” he said, raising his hands in mock surrender. “I did __not__ leer at you. And I’m not stalking you! I didn’t even know you’d be here tonight.”

“Are you absolutely sure you’re smart enough to get a doctorate?” she said. “Poe says this place has been the roller derby hangout post-game since it opened. Where else would I be?”

Ben frowned but at least was intelligent enough to let the insult pass. “Look, I don’t go out much. I wouldn’t be out now, but the roommate has a girl over and I went to the only place I didn’t think would be overcrowded with drunk football-loving idiots.”

Rey crossed her arms. This guy was full of so much bullshit. He “didn’t go out much” but had religiously shown up to every one of her games? Also, could he go five minutes without insulting someone, or would that literally kill him? Pretentious, elitist, prick.

“So lemme guess,” she said, allowing some of the acid in her veins to spill into her voice, “you’re just a __huge__ roller derby fan?”

“I mean--”

“You’re a perv,” Rey accused, cutting off his defense.

Ben recoiled as if she had slapped him. “What?”

“Does that innocent act really work on people?” she said, on a roll now. “You show up to watch hot girls beat the shit out of each other. That’s fine, I get it, but if you don’t respect us, you don’t deserve our respect either.”

“I’m sorry if I gave you that impression,” he said, and he did a passable impression of feeling chastised. “Can I buy you a drink and start over?”

Was it just her, or did his voice get deeper when he was trying to appear charming? And, goddamn it, why was it working? She looked him over again, trying to consider if he had ulterior motives.

“No,” she said, but gently, “not tonight. But maybe after the game next week, if you can pay attention to the game well enough to tell me how many points I score.”

What had made her say that? She didn’t really want to go out with this asshole, did she? He seemed like the type who would be even more insufferable if she broke it off with him. Then again, she remembered how he had shrunk away from her at the coffee shop and fought the urge to smile. Him being scared of her may not be a bad thing.

Rey made to walk past him, back to tell Poe, Finn, and Rose all about the interaction. His hand ghosted over her shoulder, and she was not proud of the goosebumps that prickled down her arms at the physical contact.

“Can I at least know your name?” he asked, sounding surprisingly earnest.

Taken aback, she didn’t’ answer immediately. She had just assumed he had looked her up or something, or figured out the pun. “Rey,” she said.

“Oh,” he said, a bit dumbfounded. “Your name’s really Rey.”

She held up three fingers on her right hand, the Girl Scout salute. “Scout’s honor.”

“Nice to meet you, Rey,” he said in that infuriatingly deep, sultry voice, and she mentally slapped herself for even thinking about it that way.

If he was an idiot, what did that make her for being attracted to him?


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Long one for y'all today! :) Little bit of drama, but that had to come up eventually. Our clueless kiddos are slowly moving closer <strike>I'm not really sure how long something has to be in order to be considered a slow-burn, but this is looking like it'll be a medium-burn, anyway</strike>.

Ben spent every evening the next week learning the rules of roller derby. His roommate had mocked him the first time he had gotten home to see Ben watching Youtube videos on the laptop while cooking dinner.

“I really awoke some sort of fetish in you, didn’t I?” Alex had said, making a show of checking Ben wasn’t using the olive oil for non-cooking purposes.

Of course, Ben had been too embarrassed to fill him in on any of it. He and Alex were roommates in the truest sense, civil acquaintances who shared space, not good friends. Not for Alex’s lack of trying, but Ben preferred to spend his time alone in the lab.

“Those girls are too much for us anyway, buddy,” Alex had said, just before disappearing into his bedroom, “after all, we are engineers.”

Ben had watched enough videos to be confident he understood the rules of roller derby, but he still worried he would be so hypnotized by Rey that he wouldn't be able to pay attention anyway. His last-ditch effort would be to rely on the announcer’s play-by-play, but the annoying drivel might give him a migraine.

God, what was he hoping for anyway? A drink with this girl who scared him and turned him on by approximately equal amounts…Yeah, great idea. He has a 50% chance of embarrassing himself by being submissive and a 50% chance of embarrassing himself by getting an awkward boner. Fuck, who was he kidding? The first would probably lead to the second.

He glanced at the clock. It wasn’t too late to just…not go. He would just never go to that coffee shop again, never go to Resistance again. Austin was a big town. UT had a big campus. They didn’t have to run into each other.

Alex and his girlfriend were hanging out on the couch, watching some B horror movie on TV. Every so often, Alex glanced up at Ben, who was sitting at the dining table, wearing his “coolest” outfit.

“Gonna chicken out over there, Top Gun?” Alex asked, indicating the leather jacket Ben never wore, except when he was trying to look ‘cool.’

“No,” Ben answered. He still had, like, a whole minute before he had to leave.

“Was that a question?” Alex’s girlfriend-‒Veronica-‒teased.

Well, if nothing else, he had to pretend he was going or he would never live it down. All at once, he stood up, striding towards the door with an excess of energy and very nearly taking the key hooks off the wall when he snatched the keys.

“Careful if you get lucky tonight, stud,” Veronica commented, watching the key hooks rock a little on their hangers. “Women don’t usually like it clumsy.”

“Fuck you,” Ben said, halfway out the door.

“Hey!” Veronica called after him, “save it for ‘Death Rey.’”

Ugh, he had never been early to one of the matches before. So early, in fact, that only a few people were milling around in the merch and bar area. So early that the girls were still in the locker room. Even now, though, the place smelled of hot dogs, nacho cheese, and beer, so much so that Ben wondered if they ever cleaned the concessions stand. No, not a thought he cared to spend time on.

He much preferred to arrive slightly late, squeeze into a spot in the bleachers close enough to the front he could see the glint in Rey’s eyes, but far enough back he didn’t draw too much attention to himself. (Or, so he had thought before he found out Rey and her friends were gossiping about him.) That way, at least, he could avoid the curious eyes of the die-hard fans and friends of the team members, unlike now when it felt like they were all staring at him.

“Hey, Ben!”

Ben half-started and half-flinched, wondering who the hell could be here that would recognize him. He had like half a friend, if you counted Alex, and about 10 acquaintances that would never approach him in public.

He turned, seeing that the voice in question belonged to a vaguely rogue-ish man that he recognized as the Rebelettes coach. Somehow, he looked much more at ease in his leather jacket than Ben felt in his.

“Hey, guy-I-don’t-know,” Ben answered, trying for nervous-but-guarded and ending up sounding a bit more stand-offish, even to his own ears.

Trying to appear more casual than he felt (and sounded), Ben glanced around, taking in the girls setting up the merchandise tables with custom-printed tee shirts, buttons, and patches. Really, he was trying to settle on a plausible escape route. Maybe he could fake a phone call?

“What are you up to, man? What is your deal here?” The coach sounded accusatory and distinctly like this wasn’t the first time he had accosted some random stranger in the lobby.

“Who are you, exactly?” Ben said.

The coach rolled his eyes, obviously not buying Ben’s only somewhat exaggerated ignorance. “You know damn well I coach for the Rebelettes. My name’s Poe, not that that’s any of your business. Are you some sort of creeper or what?”

“No,” Ben said, “I swear, I’m not a creeper. Y’all are just a good team...” He trailed off, seeing the look in Poe’s eyes. Alright, so he had some experience in differentiating a true fan of the sport from a fan of his girls. Should’ve seen that coming, honestly.

“Okay, look,” Ben said, deciding that the best option was to just come clean, “I have a normal, not creepy crush on Rey. She said if I could tell her how many points she scored tonight, she’d have a drink with me.” He looked Poe up and down, remembering how Rey had walked straight back over to him and that girl (Rose?) after their confrontation at Resistance. “But I suspect you already knew that.”

Poe raised an eyebrow, making a show of considering Ben’s words. “Do you even know the rules of the game, man?”

“Yeah,” Ben said, suddenly really glad for the 10 hours of Youtube he had watched that week. “There are the rounds, called jams, where groups of five girls on each team try to earn points. The scoring players, called jammers, score points for every person on the other team they pass. The other girls, the blockers-‒”

“Okay, okay,” Poe said, cutting him off. “I get it. You studied for your big test.” He sighed, crossing his arms. “Most stalkers don’t put in that much effort. Either that or their brain gets scrambled from how many times they jerk off to the videos instead of listening to them.”

Ben couldn’t quite suppress the disgust that passed over his face. He definitely found Rey hot, and he’d be lying if he said he had never fantasized about her while…Well, not the point. He did __not__ spend time jerking off to videos of college girls playing sports on the internet. He did __not__ come here to watch them in a fetish-y way.

“Are you an asshole?” Poe asked, his tone changing to a much more personally confrontational one. “’Cause my friend says you’re an asshole.”

Oh, fuck, what was this? Twenty questions? Ben glanced around again. Where was the bartender? He could sure use a drink or four.

“Man, what is this? You her coach or her brother or what?” Ben asked, blatant annoyance in his voice.

“You __are__ an asshole,” Poe said, laughing a little to himself. This Poe guy was a prick. “And Rey and I have been friends for a long time, so if you’re an asshole to her, I’m gonna take it personal.”

Poe was a hell of a lot shorter than Ben to be making those kinds of threats. And awfully pretty. “Whatever, buddy. Although, it seems to me she can probably take care of herself, considering.” Ben gestured around them, at the derby setup, remembering how Rey finished a goddamn match with a broken nose.

Poe nodded, his expression still snarky. “Yeah, you know what? You’re right. I heard how you cowered in the coffee shop. I shouldn’t be worried.”

Ben bristled. How wonderful it would feel just to pull his fist back and…No. If this guy was Rey’s friend (and unfortunately, it seemed he was), Ben would get further by being nice.

He managed an expression somewhere between a smile and a grimace, balling his hands into fists in the pockets of his jacket. “So I’m an asshole for apologizing now? Hard to win with you lot.”

“Coach!” Someone called for Poe from the Rebelettes locker room. Ben didn’t recognize the voice. “We gonna discuss strategy or just fucking wing it?”

Poe gave Ben one last once-over, and suddenly Ben wasn’t convinced Poe wasn’t at least partially checking him out. “Look, Ben. You hurt her, and she’ll probably beat the crap out of you. Whatever’s leftover the rest of the team will have a go at. Then you’ll have to deal with me. Just a friendly warning.”

Ben watched Poe start back toward the locker room, torn between hating his guts and begrudging respect. Despite being aggressively introverted, Ben did understand that to have a happy relationship with a girl, you had to at least be polite to her friends.

“Is it break a leg, or is that too on-the-nose?” Ben asked.

Poe glanced back at him, his face unamused but his eyes bearing the slightest glimmer.

“Good luck, then,” Ben said.

“Thanks.”

None of the subsequent matches had given Ben the same thrill as the first game. He would never forget that feral look in Rey’s eyes, the way it made him feel. Although, he would prefer to forget the unwanted boner that had followed if he was being honest.

He had taken his customary position, the second row back and across from Rey’s customary spot on the mid-rink bench. Most of the games for the past few weeks had been intramural, in the name of fun and practice rather than cutthroat competition. Not that they had been any less exciting, but certainly less…formal?

This week, the competing teams were out-of-towners, from some smaller college Ben had never heard of. He assumed it wasn’t too far away, given how many of their fans had made it to Austin for the game, but such things were relative in Texas. For all he knew, these people had driven five hours for the privilege of sitting on an uncomfortable bench in Austin. (Though, god knows they’d be on Sixth Street later).

The crowd started to get pretty riled up even before the players made it out. The announcer had certainly arrived and was currently riffing what could only be an amateur stand-up routine over the 80s/90s alternative rock playlist that echoed too loudly in the rink. Ben wished he had thought to take some shots before shoving himself in the bleachers, instead of the beer that barely gave him a buzz.

“Excuse me, can I squeeze in?”

Ben looked up, an acid retort ready on his tongue. Remembering the incident with Rey, though, he waited until he saw who was speaking to him before he said it aloud, and he was relieved to have taken the time. 

“Finn, isn’t it?” said Ben, reluctantly scooting even closer to the undergrad guys to his right. “You tend bar at Resistance, right?”

Finn sat down next to Ben, sitting a bit farther away than could be considered casual, especially considering the limited space. “Yeah, that’s right. I’m also a Master’s student in your department, and a lab assistant for your PI*.”

“Oh,” Ben said. Honestly, he wouldn’t have even known Finn was the Resistance bartender if it wasn’t for the other day with Rey. “I think I’ve seen you around.”

“Yeah, I bet,” Finn said, not trying to hide the sarcasm in his tone. “Poe says you’ve been at almost every game this season.”

“You too?” Ben said, rolling his eyes. “Look, Poe already gave me the ‘I’ll hurt you if you hurt her talk.’ Can we just watch the game?”

Finn looked at him, eyes squinted as if he was deciding whether to repeat the gambit or let it go. “Yeah, sure. I hear Rey’s out first this match.”

Ben regarded Finn with mild suspicion. “You here to sabotage me somehow? I’m assuming you know about her little wager?”

Finn smiled to himself, not even bothering to hide his amusement. “Yeah, no sabotage. Pinky promise.”

The girls from the away team were filing out, but there was still no sign of the Rebelettes. Ben watched them with idle interest as they laughed and teased with each other, making final adjustments to outfits and skates.

“Level with me here, Finn,” Ben said. “You and Rey got something, or what?”

God, still with the amused-at-Ben’s-expense expression. How could someone so young possibly be so patronizing? “Not anymore, man. That played out in a summer fling. I __am__ her best friend, though.”

“And Poe?” Ben asked, just for good measure.

Now that got a different reaction. Finn jumped as if startled and made a face that would’ve been appropriate if Ben had suggested they go out to eat at the dumpster out back. “Poe? Fuck no! Poe and I are friends and that’s how he met Rey.” Finn paused, laughing a little. “Dude, chill. The only competition you have to worry about is maybe Kaydel.” Finn must’ve seen the blank look on Ben’s face because he added: “’Princess Slaya.’”

“Oh.” Ben admittedly did not expect that tidbit of information. “Okay…”

Finn leaned down to retrieve his drink from the concrete, and then rapidly leaped to his feet, cheering. “Here they come,” he hissed at Ben as if disappointed that he, too, didn’t leap up and yell.

Ben stood, managing somehow without a much-desired compensatory eye roll, and clapped as the Rebelettes skated into view. Most of the girls made a performance of waving and making cute faces and gestures for the crowd, but Rey waved just once and smiled before her game face returned. Now that he had seen her without the theatrical makeup, Ben was even more mystified by the smoky eyeshadow and dark lipstick. She looked like some sort of mystical goddess of rage or badassery, ready to swoop in and fuck things up.

“Ladies, gentlemen, enbies, and pervs!” The announcer had ended his stand-up routine at some point, now making shitty jokes about the subject at hand. “It’s the moment you’ve all been waiting for. Everybody welcome our lovely ladies of derby!”

The crowd of girls, about 30 between the two teams, took to the rink for some warm-up laps. The challenging team wore bright yellow, with hazard symbols plastered on random parts of their uniforms. Rey had donned glittery fishnet tights this week, drawing extra attention to her strong legs. Ben’s eyes followed her and only her, taking in every pump of her legs, every swing of her arms. Also new today was an airbrush tattoo of the Rebelettes symbol on her exposed midriff; perhaps the whole team had them, but Ben didn’t notice.

“Welcome our challengers tonight, the Crash Test Lovelies! These crazy gals hail from Hill College in Hillsboro, Texas!”

The cheering for the Lovelies was moderate, and a glance around the crowd revealed a few posters cheering on the team’s star members. Far more signs cheered on the Rebelettes, including those held by several girls he recognized as members of intramural rivals. Guess Austin pride was stronger than team rivalry.

“And everybody already knows and loves our savage Rebelettes. These gorgeous girls came in number 2 in the league last year, and they are holding a bit of a grudge.”

“Way to rub it in, dickweed,” Finn said, taking a deep drink.

“Alright, ladies and germs, let’s get set for the first jam of the night. Raspberry, if you please! Just kidding-‒little bit of jam humor, there!”

For chrissake, did anybody actually think this guy was funny? Ben thought about saying so to Finn, but then decided they weren’t really there to be friends.

Most of the girls skated off the track, leaving ten girls to complete a more casual lap as they got into position. As Finn had predicted, Rey took her spot on the back line, helmet cover in place. Ben had only seen her play blocker one or two times, and usually only if she had already been a jammer in other rounds. It seemed that speed and fearlessness were her biggest assets on the track, and she did well as the scoring player.

“Looks like lining up for the Lovelies are #3 ‒ Hermione Danger, #16 ‒ Pain Eyre, #22 ‒ Gore-ticia Addams, and #7 ‒ Trippy Longstocking. Hoping to score some points against the hometown gals is #54 ‒ Scare-ol Danvers. Something to __Marvel__ at, eh, ladies? Eh?

“For the revered Rebelettes, we have #22 ‒ Jessika Stab-it, #12 ‒ Rosie D. Ribhitter, #89 ‒ Princess Slaya, and #15 ‒ Paige-an Ritual. Hope the Crash Test Lovelies have built-in airbags because the Rebelettes are debuting with the ever-savage jammer, #8 ‒ Death Rey!”

Finn was on his feet again, whooping and hollering. Ben sighed. He could show up every week for Rey. He loved watching her kick ass on the rink. But, he would just __never__ be into anything like that. Maybe, just maybe, he could be talked into holding a sign. But demeaning himself by jumping up and down like a child? God, no.

“On the whistle, dummies and rebels!”

The ref blew the whistle, and the ladies were off. The sound of wheels on the rink floor echoed against the walls, almost loud enough to drown out the music. Of course, the cheers from the crowd made up the difference, and Ben could only feel the bass lines of AC/DC through the bleachers.

Rey wasted no time making her move, pushing through two of the Lovelies like double doors. The rest of the Rebels engaged their opponents, and Lovelies #16 hit the rink floor within about 30 seconds. The opposing jammer was quick, but Rey was quicker, pulling out ahead and making a run for a scoring pass.

“Looks like Death Rey pulls out ahead, making Lead Jammer. Scare-ol is on her tail, though, and it looks like the Lovelies are setting up for some sort of play.”

Ben leaned forward. Rey had almost reached the group of the other girls and this is where things got exciting. The Lovelies had formed up into a sort of wall, and the Rebelettes were doing their best to make a path for Rey. Rey, though, took advantage of another strategy. Two of the women skated more loosely, waiting to let their own jammer through. Rey took only seconds to identify those women and ducked deftly through the gap when they both put weight on their outside feet.

Scare-ol wasn’t far behind, though, and had every bit of Rey’s speed. Trying to get out ahead for the next pass, she herded Rey against the rail, not having the leverage for contact but trying to line up for it.

“Come on, Death Rey,” Finn called, gritting his teeth.

But then Scare-ol lunged at Rey. One of the Rebelettes reached out to protect Rey, and Scare-ol lost her footing, reaching out instinctually for something to catch her. Instead, she got a handful of Rey’s shirt.

Both jammers crashed to the ground hard. Three blockers who had been skating close behind couldn’t quite stop fast enough, tumbling down in a heap. The others avoided the mix-up but continued slower, waiting for their teammates to get up.

Ben had seen enough of this sport to know that falling in the rink was common. Usually, the women took a spill and were up on their feet again before he had even realized what had happened. The two Lovelies blockers popped up just as predicted. Rose, the other blocker who had been caught in the fall, sat up, and the look on her face sickened Ben.

Scare-ol seemed a tad dazed when she sat up, looking immediately at Rey. Both she and Rose spoke to Rey, who was still face-down on the rink. Rey lifted her head slowly, and Poe was already calling for a medic.

Ben’s heart seemed to rattle in his chest. Both he and Finn were rooted to their spot in the stands, waiting and holding their breath for Rey to pop up, wave, and insist upon finishing the match.

Scare-ol looked up at Rose, and, while Ben was not a proficient lip-reader, he was pretty sure she said “hit her head on the rail.”

Fuck.

Almost as if he were possessed, Ben leaped the front bleachers and scrambled to the edge of the rink. Scare-ol and Rose had hauled Rey to her feet, but she was obviously wobbly and not herself. Rey teetered between them, an arm over each of their shoulders, a bit pale with an already apparent red mark on her forehead.

Close enough now to be in hearing range, he heard Scare-ol apologizing. “I’m so sorry. I just lost my footing and crashed into her. I’m so sorry.”

Rose, level-headed to an extent that simultaneously impressed and annoyed Ben, answered. “It’s okay. It happens all the time. I think she’ll be okay. Let’s just let the medic check her over.”

Rey mumbled something right when Ben got there. Finn was right behind him, and the two of them moved to take her weight from the girls, still strapped into their skates.

“What was that, Rey?” Finn asked.

And then, Rey puked down the front of Ben’s jacket, drawing dramatic gasps from the crowd. Ben sighed. “I think she might’ve said she was gonna puke.”

The medic pushed through the crowd, followed by Poe. The rest of the women from both teams gathered on the rink rail near where they set her on the bleachers, watching with genuinely worried expressions.

“Hey, there,” the medic said to Rey, who looked a little bit dazed but much more herself than she had a few seconds ago. “How’re you feeling?”

“Like I have a concussion,” Rey muttered. “Head hurts. Nauseated. Puked.”

The medic glanced at Ben’s jacket, flashing Ben a sympathetic smile. “I can see that. Did you lose consciousness?”

“Think so,” Rey answered.

“Yes,” Rose said, still infuriatingly calm. “Maybe 10 seconds.”

“Everybody stay calm,” the announcer said. Apparently, the crowd was getting antsy. As far as Ben cared, they could all collectively fuck off. “The medic’ll check her out and then we’ll be back to the match as soon as we can.”

The medic continued, taking Rey’s vitals and shining a light in her eyes. “Did you hit your head?”

“Yep,” Rey said, sounding a bit more normal by the minute. “Forehead, of course, where my helmet isn’t.”

“Can you tell me your name and what day it is?”

“Rey Johnson, and it’s September 16.”

Red and blue flashing lights unrelated to the usual rink lights appeared. A fucking ambulance? This was bad. Ben resented the huge crowd surrounding them, staring at Rey when she was this vulnerable. Scare-ol looked to be holding back tears, beside herself with worry. Ben knew he shouldn’t be mad at her‒-it was an accident, and an obvious risk of the game‒-but he kind of was.

“You’re looking okay, but probably have a concussion, Rey,” the medic said, glancing at the people directly surrounding her. “I’d like you to go to the hospital so they can check you out and make sure you didn’t fracture anything. Okay?”

“Okay,” Rey said. She looked at Ben as if seeing him for the first time. “Sorry about your jacket.”

“Don’t worry about it,” Ben said. He never could pull off that look anyway. Maybe this was for the best. Or he could, you know, get it cleaned.

The paramedics arrived, having a quiet conversation with the medic, Poe, and Rose. He and Finn stayed put, on either side of Rey, positioned to catch her if she tried to fall.

“I’m so sorry, Rey,” Scare-ol said again. “I didn’t mean to hurt you.”

“Nah,” Rey said. “The rail hurt me, not you. I woulda got you back.” She winked, and Scare-ol managed a little smile.

The paramedics turned to address Rey. “Alrighty, guys. Campus policy is an ambulance ride to the ER. One person can ride with us upfront. Everyone else, we’re headed to Ascension Seton Medical Center and you’re welcome to meet her there.”

The paramedics helped Rey to sit on the stretcher and lay back. Poe, Finn, and Rose looked at each other, having some wordless conversation about who would ride in the ambulance with her.

“I’ve got all her emergency contact information and stuff,” Poe said. “I’ll go in the ambulance.” He held up a finger to the paramedics, indicating they should wait just a second. He jogged to the rail, shouted, “Kaydel, you better make sure we win this one!” and then turned to sprint after Rey.

“Looks like ol’ Death Rey is going for a little ride. I’ve been told it’s a minor injury, folks, so we’ll just take a five-minute break before resuming,” the announcer called, and the gathered crowd started to return to their spots.

Finn and Rose looked at each other, then at Ben. “I don’t know if she’d want you there, but there’s no rule against a quick visit in the hospital. You deserve it, considering,” Rose said, gesturing at the barf on his jacket.

“You just gotta be prepared to leave if she tells you to fuck off,” Finn added.

Ben sighed, shaking his head. “I get it. I promise. I just want to see if she’s okay.”

Rose and Finn looked at each other again. “Whatever. We’re carpooling, but I’m assuming you have your own vehicle?” Rose said.

“Yeah. Yeah. I’ll just meet you there.”

Finn started towards the parking lot, but Rose hesitated. “Thanks for helping just now. Sorry about the puke.”

Ben shrugged. “No big deal. I’ve picked up my drunk roommate enough times it’s not the first time I’ve been puked on.”

Rose smiled and then turned to follow Finn. Ben only hesitated for a moment, shrugging off his jacket and snatching an extra trash bag liner to stuff it in.

Was it too much to follow a girl he barely knew to the hospital? Maybe, but Finn and Rose had given their blessing, and he genuinely wanted to make sure she was okay. As Finn said, he would just leave if she asked. It’s not like he wanted to spend the night in her room.

Maybe being puked on would’ve cured a lesser man of his crush. Or, just maybe, this thing he had for her was turning into more than a crush.

Fuck. Not a good time to think about that. He’d just meet her at the hospital, see how that went, and take it from there.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Academia glossary:  
*PI: Principal Investigator. This usually refers to the "head honcho" in a lab at a university, i.e. the professor who makes the big bucks and pulls in the big grants. They oversee one or more graduate students in most cases and help them complete research.
> 
> Kudos/comments are always appreciated. I try my darndest to reply to comments, but I am going out of town tomorrow so apologies if there is a delay. Thanks for reading!


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello, again! Glad I'm able to post this on the correct day, at least (although maybe a few hours late...) Just got back from out-of-town last night and I'm super sick today. In that vein, I haven't had a chance to respond to y'all's comments yet (I plan to, I promise!!)
> 
> Thanks for sticking around, and, as always, thanks in advance for your feedback! I love you guys so damn much. 💕

Rey pouted a little as she scrolled through the channels for the third time. She hated the stupid hospital gown, hated the uncomfortable mattress, and was more than a little annoyed she hadn’t gotten to finish the match. She didn’t care about getting injured‒-she had lost track of how many bones she had broken in her life‒-but she definitely cared about not getting to finish what she started.

“Fuck, Rey, will you cut that out? __My __head is starting to hurt,” Rose said, looking up from the out-of-date People magazine she had taken from the waiting room.

Rey huffed, sitting back and stopping on a rerun of some sitcom she vaguely recognized. She crossed her arms, glaring at Rose. “Why the fuck do I have to stay anyway? They said I don’t have any signs of bleeding and they didn’t even do a scan or anything?”

She knew very well that they were concerned about the fact that she had lingering nausea, and that they were concerned about her needing a scan later on if it didn’t subside, but that didn’t mean she wasn’t going to complain about it. Rose rolled her eyes, not even looking up from the magazine.

“It’s just for observation. If you don’t make me hurt you, you’ll go home in the morning. Just think of it as a crappy vacation.”

Poe and Finn had gone down to the lobby in search of a vending machine. Rey had insisted that they go home, but they wanted to stay for a little while to keep her company. Stupid, but she appreciated the sentiment behind it.

“Knock, knock,” Poe reappeared at the door, looking uncharacteristically timid.

Rey eyed him suspiciously. “What do you want?”

Poe flinched. “You have…another visitor.”

Sighing, Rey took a deep drink of water, wishing it were alcohol. It had to be Ben. Who else could it be? She didn’t particularly want to talk to him, especially after the vomit incident, but she was bored and stuck here all night. Plus, she had made him a wager than she hadn’t been able to follow through on.

“Even after I threw up on him?” Rey asked.

Poe laughed, shrugging a little. “He did take off the jacket.”

“Alright. I owe him a chat, anyway. Poe, take Rose with you.”

Rose raised an eyebrow, closing the People magazine. “Pretty sure the doctors wouldn’t want you to fuck tonight.”

Feigning laughter, Rey flipped off Rose. “Ha ha. I promised the poor man a drink and puked on him before I could even get drunk. The least I could do is give him a private audience.”

Making a show of appearing reluctant, Poe and Rose left the room. Rey did her best to arrange herself on the hospital bed in the most dignified way possible, considering she was wearing a backless gown and had IV lines and cords crisscrossing her body. God, maybe he was just coming in there to say the bet was off now that she puked on him.

He appeared in the doorway. Did he get taller every time she saw him? Yeah, and those broad shoulders were __not __a trick of the light. How did a Ph.D. student get so built, anyway? Those textbooks must be heavier than they looked.

Ben looked at her but must’ve been embarrassed by her appearance, because he looked away quickly. “Seinfeld, really?”

Rey smiled despite herself and muted the TV. “Their cable here is shit.”

“You okay? I mean, Poe told me the doctors didn’t find a fracture, but he also said you have to stay the night.”

He stood awkwardly in the door frame, shifting as if he didn’t know how best to position himself. She wondered how long he would do that, or if he would wait for her to specifically invite him to sit down.

“Yeah, yeah. Just a concussion. The puking worried the doctors, so I’m a hostage overnight.” Rey touched her forehead, where she knew the bump had already formed. “I’m thinking they just wanna see how big this knot is gonna get.”

This time, he looked at her earnestly. It should not have been possible for a grown adult, near-doctor of whatever to have that level of puppy dog eyes. “You look beautiful, Rey.”

Rey barked out a laugh. “Whoa, now,” she said, gesturing to her IV, “I’m the one on drugs, not you.”

He actually blushed, looking down at the floor.

Feeling a bit guilty, she hurried to speak again, “Are you gonna come in, or what?”

He blushed a little darker as he chose one of the seats by the window. It was dark outside, but the fluorescent lights maintained the illusion of daylight in the room. He peered between the mini blinds at the parking lot as if determined not to look at her too long.

“Sorry I messed up our bet,” she said, after about a minute of awkward silence.

The nurse had muted the beeping on her ECG, but she knew if he looked up, he would see that her heart rate had increased. She shouldn’t be nervous‒she didn’t even know this guy well enough to like him‒but he was handsome, and here in her hospital room.

“Yeah, how dare you get hurt.” He looked over at her, smiling wryly. “I’m not that bad of a drinking partner, you know.”

Oh, cute. Insinuating that she had hurt herself to get out of their bet. She should be annoyed, but she wasn’t.

“Did you really steal a grant from somebody?” The words tumbled out of her mouth before she could stop them. She was dying to know; if he was an asshole, she wanted to know before this little crush escalated further.

He flinched, looking back at the window. “Oh. Yeah, I did.”

Admittedly, she had not expected him to just own up to it. In fact, he showed no sign of intending to explain further. Anger prickled over her, and she considered just turning the sound back on the TV and ignoring him until he left. But then, she might as well clarify the situation, since he was so goddamn hot.

“Like, for fun?” she asked, feeling a bit snippy on this slighted person’s behalf. Rey herself never intended to do research for a living, but she had heard enough about the stresses from Finn and Poe that she knew malicious grant-stealing was, like, __the__ cardinal sin of science (not considering outright falsification, anyway).

“No!” he said, and he vehemence in his voice startled her. He rubbed his hand over his face in frustration, beginning again. “Look, I had the position at my last university but I wanted a different mentor who was competing with my lab in the same area of study. The guy I wanted to work with was giving me advice on the side, and I, young and naive, thought if I listened to him for a while he would agree to fund me and I could move to his lab.

“I drew the line at passing on confidential information from my lab, but when this guy suggested that I could move to his lab if I brought this one particular grant, I decided I would do anything to get it. The other student I was competing with had better research, and I knew she would win on merit alone. I asked the guy what to do about it, and he hinted at this rumor that the competing student’s lab was tweaking their results. So, I…embellished a report about dodgy data, with just enough circumstantial evidence that it was plausible, and I got the grant.”

His voice got deeper when he was upset. At least, he seemed genuinely upset. “Turns out, when you are the guy who blabs about falsifying data without proof, nobody wants you in their lab. Including the guy who wanted you to do it in the first place.

“Funnily enough, the grant money defaulted to my ‘mentor’s’ lab when I got kicked out of the program.”

Rey grimaced. “That sucks.”

“I mean, I should have seen it coming. What I did was shitty, no matter how much I wanted to be in that guy’s lab.” He crossed his legs and then uncrossed them. “I was lucky that anyone would take me in after that. My current PI has even more questionable morals.”

Glancing up at the IV bag, now 3/4 empty on its stand, Rey decided to go all-or-nothing. “Would you do something like that again?”

“Fuck no,” he answered. “I try to stay out of it as much as I can, although my name is always gonna be mud given that it goes on all the publications out of this lab. Guy gets great results, and at least he doesn’t fake data, but he’s not afraid to throw other people under the bus to get there.”

They fell silent again. Rey was surprised to find that her opinion of him had softened a little. He may have done a shitty, unforgivable thing, but at least he knew it was shitty and unforgivable. Better than if he waved the whole thing away by playing the victim card.

“You even gonna remember this in the morning?” Ben finally asked, tilting his head at the IV bag.

“Dude,” she said, shaking her head. “They’ve only given me Tylenol. They can’t tell if my ‘neurological status’ deteriorates-‒” she punctuated the words with air quotes “-‒if they give me loopy drugs.”

“Oh, Jesus,” he said. “So this is just you?”

Laughing made her head pound, but she couldn’t help it. “Yeah, this is just me.”

“You’re nosy.”

“I know.”

They held intense eye contact for a moment before he looked back at the door. He was awfully flighty for a guy she assumed was in his late twenties or early thirties. What did he think she was going to do? Ask him about his childhood? Try to trick him into‒-gasp-‒meaningful conversation?

“I should probably get going. I’m assuming Poe, Finn, and Rose are all waiting to hear how this went.”

God, her heart rate was in the nineties. Please, don’t look, Ben. So embarrassing.

He paused, not even moving to stand. “So did I pass your test? Or should I just stop trying? Because I don’t know if I can keep going like this.”

At the same time, she said, “You want to get a drink sometime?”

“Oh,” they said in unison.

“Yeah,” he answered, after a beat. “I’d love to get a drink with you.”

She held out her hand expectantly, but he looked at her like she had said something in a foreign language. “Your phone, doofus?”

Fumbling like she had told him he had a bomb in his pocket instead, he pulled out the phone and handed it to her. She programmed her name and number in, and then texted herself so she could save his number.

“If you’re too scared to call me, you better not show up at any more roller derby,” she said, only half-kidding. Or, really, not kidding at all.

“I swear,” he said.

This time, he did stand, shoving his phone into his back pocket. Rey looked away, the monitor readouts making her feel very exposed as she imagined cupping his ass.

“Sorry again about your jacket,” she said, trying to cover up her sudden flush. “I’ll pay to have it cleaned.”

“Don’t worry about it,” he said, stopping in the doorway. “I’ll call you tomorrow.”

“Okay.”

Rey was only a little embarrassed the way her eyes were trained on his ass as he walked away. Well, if the date was a disaster, she could always hit it and quit it. He might still turn out to be a total asshole, but he was also a total hottie, so it seemed worth the risk. Poe would be proud of her for thinking that way‒which, now that she thought about it, was horrifying.

Another glance at her monitor showed her heart rate was slowing back into the seventies. Even if she was trying to convince herself she didn’t like him, her physiologic reaction was demonstrable. She was surprised no nurses had come in to see what had gotten her worked up. But then again, maybe they had seen him walk in and thought it was a reasonable reaction.

The only thing she knew for sure was that if he didn’t at least text her, she would be livid. And, if he dared to show up to another game without taking her on a date, she would set the whole team loose on him.

Hope you know what you’re getting into, Ben.


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for your patience, y'all. I am recovered from my illness and my trip, and I hope this chapter delivers a bit of escalation in the heat factor. I feel like dates can be hard to write, though, so lemme know if I did it successfully??
> 
> Okay, but on another topic, how about that trailer???? They sure like to tease us Reylos a little (or a lot), and it gave me SO MANY FEELINGS.
> 
> As always, thank you darlings in advance for kudos and comments! 💕😘💕😘

Ben cast his eyes around the bar, trying not to appear nervous as he tried to spot Rey as she came in. Ben was always early, which could be considered a flaw when it came to social activities with less anxious people.

Rey had selected the location, being much better versed with the social locales of the area than Ben. The bar was not crowded, but business was steady. An equal number of small friend groups and couples occupied the tables and booths. To Ben’s surprise and relief, it didn’t appear to be an undergraduate favorite but instead attracted a calmer crowd.

If the place had a theme, Ben couldn’t identify it. The walls housed a multitude of signs, pictures, and curiosities, with subjects ranging from ammunition to gardening supplies. The lighting was low but not dark, even though he had been seated in the basement where the only windows were tiny and at the tops of the walls. A pleasant aroma of food (not the typical greasy fried fare Ben typically associated with bars) wafted in from the kitchen and the more restaurant-type seating upstairs.

Ben wouldn’t have known to sit downstairs, but when he checked in with the hostess upstairs, she had immediately asked him if he was meeting Rey and indicated her favorite seating. Ben appreciated the gesture, but the enthusiasm and the subsequent blatant ogling he could’ve done without.

Looking down at the menu, Ben tried to take his mind off his nerves. It was just now 8 pm, and Rey could definitely be the type to be five minutes late. He honestly didn’t know much about her, so he couldn’t make a definitive judgment one way or the other.

Reflexively, he looked up at the sound of someone coming down the stairs.

Holy shit.

Ben should’ve been used to her transformations by now. After all, he had seen her at what he assumed were her two extremes: roller derby and morning yoga. But he hadn’t yet seen her in a dress.

Her brown hair was down for the first time since he met her, and he finally saw that it was just long enough to skim her shoulders. Her white dress, just shorter than her knees and fitted to her figure, somehow seemed even sexier than her deliberately revealing roller derby uniform. God, her legs went on for miles from the hem of that skirt, and Ben couldn’t help but imagine how they might feel hooked around his shoulders.

By the time he had recovered from that image, she had slid into the booth across from him, smirking at what he could only assume was the dumbfounded expression on his face.

“You order anything yet, or‒lemme guess‒is what you want not on the menu?” she teased, reaching over to steal the menu from him.

“You look incredible,” he said, not registering her words at first. “Oh, uh, no I haven’t ordered anything yet.”

“Thank you,” she said, with a coy smile that could only mean she knew exactly what she was doing when she had chosen the dress. “The food is pretty good here. Especially the desserts.”

This woman would eat an inexperienced undergraduate alive. __I know what I want for dessert__ were the words her comment immediately evoked. Fuck, it was like a first date in a bear trap, and he still wasn’t sure what he would get if he triggered it.

She flagged over a waiter with one finger and a winning smile. “I’ll take an Old Fashioned, and an order of the raspberry black bean dip for the table.”

Ben hadn’t actually looked much at the menu, given how nervous he was waiting for her to arrive. “Um, I’ll have the Live Oak Hefe Weizen, and, are there any other recommendations for appetizers?”

Rey winked at the waiter before answering. “The esquites is especially good.”

“Okay,” Ben answered, at least able to take a hint. “An order of esquites for the table as well.”

She sat back in the booth, placing her phone screen-down on the table. Ben tried not to look directly at her, as he was afraid he would gawk again. She was so breathtakingly gorgeous, watching him with a placid smile, that he felt like a lump of coal next to a diamond.

“You seem well-acquainted with the waiter,” Ben commented, trying not to sound as jealous as he felt. He occupied his eyes by reading the ingredients on the back of the ketchup bottle, hoping she didn’t have a whip-sharp retort but knowing that she probably did.

She laughed, an unrestrained sound of delight that wasn’t as ladylike as most women pulled out for a first date. “Oh, yes. I take all of my many, many dates here.”

He looked up at her, and she regarded him like a cat toying with a mouse. He felt the tips of his ears heat, and he wished he had a drink in front of him to occupy his hands.

“I’m only joking,” she said. “He’s in my intro to chemistry class. Plus my friends and I hang out here when Finn isn’t working at Resistance.”

Ben cleared his throat and then decided that if she was going to throw him off-balance, he could return the favor. “You know, Rey, you scare me more than a little.”

“Oh, I know,” she said, and then she reached across the table to put her hand on his. “It’s kind of fun if I’m being honest. But I’m not trying to be mean.”

The waiter returned with their drinks, and Rey pulled her hand away. She swirled her drink idly with the stir-stick, either waiting for him to react or trying to formulate her next words. As for Ben’s part, he was tempted to order a couple of shots of tequila to make the whole thing easier. But, of course, he was too enamored with the girl across from him to do that, so he took a deep drink of his beer instead.

“You’re not mean,” Ben said finally. “You’re just…intense. I’m not used to it. People tend to be more reserved, trying to impress people.”

Rey shrugged a shoulder, sliding the cherry off the stir-stick with her teeth. “I guess I never saw the point in that. I mean, they’re going to find out what I’m like eventually, so if they hate it, might as well not make the effort.”

“I guess I see your point,” he conceded. Who was this woman? So sure of herself so young. “Hey, I never asked: what’s your major?”

“Journalism,” she answered. She tapped the back of her phone, leaning towards him. “I’m actually recording this whole conversation right now.”

This time, he laughed. Maybe he was learning her sense of humor after all. “Do you want to do TV journalism or written?”

She lifted an eyebrow. “You yourself just commented that I come on a little strong. You think I could make it on TV?”

“With that face? I think they’d hire you on the spot.”

Ben was pleased to see that Rey blushed a little at that. “You’re sweet when you want to be,” she said.

When he wanted to be? Well, he supposed she did have a point. “I’m not the best with people. I spend most of my time in the lab, and the machines don’t talk much.”

“Really?” she said. “I hadn’t noticed.”

“Yeah, yeah, laugh it up. Poor antisocial engineering student.” Ben smiled at her. “But I got a date with you, so how bad could it be really?”

They were interrupted again as the waiter returned with their food. The waiter smiled at Rey as he set everything on the table: tiny plates, a cast iron skillet with Rey’s dip, a platter with the esquites, a basket of chips, and silverware. Ben couldn’t help but raise an eyebrow; Rey may not see it, but this guy was smitten with her.

Rey wasted no time in taking a plate to serve herself. She took a generous helping of esquites before taking a big scoop of dip on a chip. Even the way she ate was adorable and intimidating. Ben had not been on a ton of first dates, but he had been on enough to know that women were often worried about not appearing gluttonous‒Rey didn’t bother with appearances.

Ben followed her lead, serving himself. Rey was spot-on about her choices. Both dishes were delicious. He opened his mouth to tell her so, but the waiter appeared to drop the dessert menu at their table, winking at Rey.

Rey chuckled to herself. “I always get dessert,” she said by way of explanation.

“He’s smitten with you,” Ben said.

“He’s not!” Rey protested.

“Mhm,” he answered, taking a bite of the dip. “Don’t you think I’d know what it looks like?”

Rey set her spoon down on the plate to cross her arms at him. “I don’t know. I guess I assumed you weren’t self-aware because of how goofy you look.”

“Touche,” he said. “So how’d you get into roller derby, anyway?”

“Ah, the big question.”

“That’s the big question?”

“Oh, yes. Guys who meet me through the sport always want to know how a pretty girl like me got into a rough ol’ sport like that.”

Ben couldn’t tell if she was teasing him or being serious‒she had one hell of a poker face. Of course, he was afraid he had just put his foot in his mouth, and the way she paused made him sweat a little bit.

“No, I just meant that it’s not something you usually hear about‒”

“Calm down, Ben,” she said, and she grinned at the table. Wow, what a stunning smile. “I’m teasing.

“I got involved indirectly through Finn. I have known Finn for years, and when he met Poe here, we both started watching roller derby. I loved the sport instantly and started practicing knowing I would try out my first semester. The rest is history, so to speak.”

Ben took a drink of his beer, considering his answer. “What do you like about it?”

“The adrenaline,” she answered. “You never know what’s going to happen out there. Everything is moving so fast and everyone is so determined. Plus I get to meet like-minded girls. Rose is, like, my best girlfriend ever and I only met her a few months ago.”

He smiled. He had been so selfishly caught up in why __he__ liked roller derby that he didn’t think about why she might like it. Turns out, she had a lot of good reasons.

“Plus you don’t seem to care about broken bones,” Ben added, and he was rewarded with a flash of her winning smile.

“Exactly.”

They ate for a few moments in silence. Ben, for his part, was overwhelmed by just how much she enchanted him. He wasn’t convinced it was entirely physical anymore. Sure, he wanted to kiss her, to touch her, to feel her, but he also wanted to learn more about her. He wanted to know how she liked her coffee, if she got along with her parents, if she wanted kids…

Fuck, Ben, this woman has turned you into a lovestruck puppy.

He jumped at the sensation of something trailing up his shin‒her foot, he realized a moment too late‒and he looked up to see her with that predatory smile again.

“Do you want any dessert?” she said. Or purred. Or was that his imagination, short-circuited by her boldness?

Her foot was gone now, and he couldn’t be certain he hadn’t imagined it. “Whatever you’re getting is fine,” he managed, his voice not entirely steady.

He had promised himself, looked into the mirror and swore up-and-down, that he would not embarrass himself with a boner on their first date. It didn’t matter that he hadn’t been with a woman in years, or that this woman was gorgeous enough to grace the pages of a magazine, he would be the master of biology.

Of course, that didn’t mean she wouldn’t challenge his resolve.

The waiter had returned with barely a gesture from Rey‒how she hadn’t recognized the poor man’s crush was beyond him‒and she ordered two different slices of cake for them to share.

“You don’t talk about yourself much,” Rey observed, draining what remained of her cocktail.

“I thought it was only fair, considering how nosy you were last time,” he said. So something remained of his wit, after all.

“Okay, fair is fair. But I didn’t want to be seen out with a grant-stealer if I didn’t know the story myself.”

Did she ever __not__ have a witty retort? Fuck, maybe sleeping with her was more than he could handle. What would she say about him when the clothes were off? Ben had never been self-conscious about anything other than his ears, but he had also never cared how people had reacted to his careless rudeness either. And yet Rey had made him apologize, in public, twice. And feel bad about his words. God, one comment about inadequate size and he might become celibate forever.

When he became aware of her again, snapping out of his humiliation spiral, her eyes had softened. “I’m sorry, Ben. I didn’t mean to prod a sore spot.”

“No, you’re okay,” he said. “I know I’m not good with people. Most people don’t like me because I’m not particularly outgoing, and I have a tendency for rudeness to be my first reaction.”

She licked her lips‒an obscene gesture, really, if she knew what his treacherous brain pictured at that moment. “Ah, you’ve noticed?”

He shrugged uncomfortably. He wasn’t proud of who he was, but if he pretended not to notice it either made him appear stupid or something akin to evil. “I’m not a naturally nice person. It takes effort for me to be nice to people I don’t know. I don’t always make that effort, even though I know I should.”

She toyed with the stir-stick in her empty glass, and for a moment, he worried that their date was about to reach an abrupt end. “I get that, I think. I’m not always nice inside my mind either. Finn once told me that your first thought is what you’ve been conditioned to think, but your second thought is what you really think. The key is, I suppose, not stopping at the first thought.”

“That’s pretty fucking deep for a first date,” Ben said, downing what remained of his beer, now lukewarm and not entirely pleasant. But, as much as he hated to admit it, what she said comforted him. Maybe he wasn’t so unpleasant, if he only waited around for the second thought.

“You never know what you’re gonna get with me,” she said.

Her brown eyes sparkled, and for a moment, he was convinced that she wanted him to kiss her. He leaned closer without meaning to, entranced by the depth of her gaze, and, if he wasn’t mistaken, the heat contained there.

Whatever was building was interrupted by the inconvenient reappearance of the waiter with their desserts.

“One slice of the ‘Chocolate Lover’s Dream’ and once slice of the ‘Irish Cream layer,’” he said, setting the slices on the table, two forks on each plate.

“Thank you, Jonathan,” Rey said, picking up a fork immediately. “Dig in, Ben, or I’ll eat them both.”

Ben reached for the Irish cream layer cake, as it was the closer slice to him. He ate a small bite, surprised at how good it was. He didn’t often order dessert, but this place might earn a rightful exception.

“I’m not looking for a man who expects me to put in all the work,” Rey said abruptly, her third bite of chocolate cake balanced on the tines of her fork. “I’m not asking you to be perfect—far from it—I just don’t want to be with a guy who’s comfortable being abrasive around my friends until they don’t want to hang out with me anymore.”

It took most of his considerable willpower to not choke on the cake in his mouth. “That sounds like a commitment question,” he pointed out, wishing he had some beer to help him swallow against the thick saliva in his mouth.

“Less of a question than a statement,” Rey said, resuming her casual cake consumption. “Not looking for an answer, but if you have one to give it might help both of us in the long run. Not that I’m against a one-night thing with you, but it’d be nice to know going in, to keep things less…messy.”

“You’re blunt,” Ben said, not entirely suppressing the choke this time. Now would be a great time for Jonathan to reappear and bring them another drink. “And you’re not against a one-night thing?”

Rey raised an eyebrow, licking her lips again. He thought the seductiveness might’ve been intentional this time. “Ben, seriously, have you looked in a mirror?”

He hid the embarrassment that flushed over him by taking a bite of the chocolate cake this time. This gorgeous woman thought __he __was attractive? Was this some sort of prank?

“But in all seriousness, I’m having a good time. I’m interested in seeing you again, Ben, but I want you to make up your mind if you’re up for it.”

Ben wasn’t sure he was ready to take this woman on, even if only for a second date. But he also knew he wasn’t ready to be through with her, either.

“Don’t answer now,” she said, licking her fork clean with sinful slowness. “Just think about it.”

Oh, he couldn’t help but imagine her tongue running like that along...No. He promised himself no awkward boners, and that train of thought would not help that resolution. He shifted a little in his chair, willing himself to have more control.

It was at that moment Jonathan returned with the bill, setting it silently on the table along with two mints. Ben raised an eyebrow at Rey, who responded with a little laugh. “Do you think he’s hinting at something?” Ben asked.

Rey shrugged, but there was a twinkle in her eyes. “Maybe there are people waiting for our table.”

Ben reached into his back pocket for his wallet, a bit surprised when Rey reached for her purse as well. He reached out to stop her but chickened out the moment before his hand touched hers.

“Come on, Ben. It’s the first date. We split it.” But he didn’t miss the way her eyes said next time, nor the way her hand deliberately brushed his as she reached into her purse.

He assented to splitting the bill but insisted on covering the tip. He even refrained from lowering the tip to punish the man for his interest in Rey. Ben could recognize when the woman was right, and he knew she deserved someone who would make an effort to be nicer for her sake.

They walked in silence to her car. She was so close to him that their hands touched occasionally. A braver man would take her hand, he thought, but he thought he might combust if he did. The Austin air was warm and a little bit humid, but she seemed warmer somehow, whether by his imagination or truth.

She stopped in front of a beat-up Chevy sedan, tracing patterns on the asphalt with her shoe. Her eyes sparkled like stars in the darkness, picking up the neon signs from the nearby bars and restaurants. She watched him almost expectantly, her soft lips parted just a hair in the middle, as if she were going to speak. He froze, entranced by her, afraid if he broke the silence he would break the spell altogether.

“Ben,” she whispered, suddenly looking a little bit shy, “aren’t you going to kiss me?”

Oh, fuck.

It’s not that the thought hadn’t occurred to him, and he would argue that until the day he died. But he was so afraid to ruin the moment somehow, give her the wrong message, that he needed her invitation to assure him he wasn’t a pervert or creep before he touched her.

His body acted before his mind had processed her words, lifting her lips to his with a hand below her chin. He hadn’t really noticed before how tiny she was, but as a hand wrapped protectively around her back he thought he could swallow her whole without really trying.

But as much as he wanted to devour her, he settled instead for the softest press of his lips to hers, pleased when she inhaled sharply and melted into his chest. She pressed her purse into his back as she pulled him closer, but her free hand wrapped into his hair, trying to bring him down to her as she craned up on her tiptoes. He wanted to taste her, to part her lips to him and feel her warmth, but she seemed so delicate and perfect in his arms like this that it felt like a corruption somehow to encourage her.

And as with all things between them so far, she needed no encouragement, deepening the kiss just long enough to turn his guts to molten lava. When she pulled away, the taste of her, diluted only a bit by the lingering sweetness of the cake, lingered on his lips like cinnamon, tingling. Her hand trailed down over the front of his chest before falling back to her side, leaving goosebumps in its wake. She sighed, a tiny sound like the coo of a dove, and Ben knew that this woman held his heart on a string.

“You’re pretty good at that for an antisocial engineer,” she said, and her breathless tone made it hard for him to swallow. Her eyes lingered on his lips for a moment, as if she was considering other things he might do with it. Or maybe that’s what he was considering‒God, what he wouldn’t give…

“Do your many, many dates all get kisses in the parking lot?” he managed, trying his hardest not to show her how far gone he was for her.

“Not like that,” she said, and she almost shook her head a little, like trying to clear a fog.

He reached out for her, emboldened by her positive reaction, catching her pinky finger with his hand for just a moment. “Can I call you for a second date?” he asked, letting his hand fall away.

“You’d better,” she said, but her voice had recovered. She dug her keys out of her purse and unlocked her car, whatever magic they had created dissipating into the dark.

When she had gotten in the car, he was still standing there, dazed. Remembering himself, he said, just as she was closing the door: “And Rey? See you Saturday.”

She smiled, just as dazzling as before even though it was softer, more reserved. “See you Saturday.”

When Ben got back to his car, he sat in silence for almost ten minutes until his pulse had calmed enough to drive away.


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh, goodness. Here it is, a day late! Sorry about that, guys! Real life got in the way--a few job interviews later and I've hopefully got a new position lined up to start next week--and I didn't get a chance to finish the chapter until this evening. That's what I get for trying to publish on a schedule.
> 
> Ah well, hope y'all didn't give up on me yet. Bit of drama ahead. We knew that was coming, right? Poor kiddos can't just have a awkward-cute first date and then smoothly slide into bone town. <strike>Well, they could, obviously, but that's not as fun, is it?</strike>
> 
> Hope this isn't too much of a departure for you. We're starting to come into it now. Optimistically, I'm putting the final chapter count at 11. I haven't written the whole ending yet, so it's not a firm number, but I think we're getting there. I do NOT rule out the possibility of a smutty epilogue in addition to the in-story smut. So, be flexible, I guess?? OK enough yammering. Hope you enjoy.

Rey tightened her laces for the third time, unable to get her skates how she liked them. This was an important match‒-if they won they were guaranteed a spot in the tournament. Every year for the past eight years, the tournament had culminated in a much-anticipated final round match between the Rebelettes and Starkillers, now a fierce rivalry known even outside the derby community on campus. The Starkillers had secured their spot in the afternoon match preceding the evening heat, and the team-members, skates off but uniforms on, were guaranteed to be filling the bleachers.

Poe, though he would never admit it, was a nervous wreck. He had stepped outside to smoke a cigarette. Smoking was a bad habit he had picked up in undergrad, and he had quit except for when he was very stressed. Poe cared more about roller derby than his job-‒Rey suspected he needed an outlet for his insatiable competitiveness-‒and while he had the utmost faith in his girls, it didn’t prevent him from getting nervous.

Giving up on getting her laces ‘perfect,’ Rey tied her skates. Someone was shouting outside the locker room, and Rey rolled her eyes. Some stupid guys must’ve gotten drunk at the afternoon meet and had kept on drinking. It happened at least once a season when some people more focused on partying than anything else decided roller derby would be a fun change of scenery. The referees and coaches were pretty good at throwing them out quickly, and Rey tried not to give the sounds another thought as she nestled her helmet carefully over her messy-on-purpose hair.

“Rey!” a voice bellowed, echoing slightly off the hallway walls. 

Startled to hear her name being yelled in the hallway, Rey froze. It took her a second or two to realize she recognized the voice. Finn?

“Rey, I need to talk to you, __now!__”

Rey, flustered into clumsiness, scrambled to skate towards the locker room door. What in the world could have Finn so worked up? Yelling like this in public was completely out of character for him, and she was worried that something serious was wrong.

“Hey, calm down, buddy.” Poe’s voice was audible as she rounded the corner, much softer and calmer than Finn’s. “What’s up?”

Rey emerged from the locker room to see Poe and Finn a few feet away. Finn’s hands balled into fists at his side, and he looked like he was using all of his self-control not to charge straight into the locker room to find her. Poe stood in front of him, hands out disarmingly, a cigarette butt still held between two fingers. Two referees in full uniform and skates hovered nearby, and, of course, a huge crowd of observers had gathered to see what had caused the commotion.

“There you are,” Finn said, his voice vehement.

Flinching at the sound, Rey tried to remember if she had done anything that could’ve possibly pissed off Finn to this degree. Other than her couple of dates with Ben-‒Finn barely tolerated Ben, and hated that Rey liked him‒-she couldn’t think of anything significant.

“Finn, what’s going on?” Rey said, looking around in an attempt to draw his attention to the crowd. She was not one to shy away from confrontation, but she preferred not to make a scene out of it if she could help it.

“What did you tell him?” Finn spat, pointing aggressively at her.

There was a murmur that went through the crowd. They probably all thought this was some sort of lover’s spat or love triangle or something. God, how humiliating. Not to mention Rey still had no earthly idea what Finn was yelling at her about.

“Finn,” she said, doing her best to sound calm even though she was starting to get a little bit pissed herself, “I don’t know what you’re talking about. Maybe you want to go outside so we can talk?”

Poe shot a meaningful look at Finn, who nodded after a long moment of consideration. He certainly didn’t look any calmer. Poe whispered something to one of the refs before pushing through the crowd and gesturing for Finn and Rey to follow.

They made it to the parking lot before Finn whirled around at her again. He was dressed in a polo and slacks, unusual for roller derby attendance, and Rey realized he must’ve come from the lab. That in and of itself wasn’t unusual. Finn often set up experiments on Friday afternoon to check on Saturday morning, but he had plenty of time to have changed before heading over for the game. That is, unless something else had required him to dress up.

“How could you tell __him?__” he hissed. “I told you that in confidence! I thought I could trust you, Rey!”

Rey blinked in confusion. Finn only emphasized the word ‘him’ like that when he was talking about Ben. But what in the world would Rey have told Ben about Finn that could evoke this reaction? She couldn’t think of __anything__. They didn’t spend a whole lot of time talking about her friends on their two dates so far, and Ben weirdly shut down anytime she mentioned Finn anyway (he must have heard somehow about their brief dating over the summer). Which left Rey to consider all of the things Finn told her in confidence.

That didn’t exactly narrow anything down. Poe may have been the bigger gossip between them, but Finn came in a close second. He told Rey and Poe anything and everything he heard at Resistance (and it was a lot), and it was all ‘in confidence.’ Rey, at least as far as she knew, was a steel trap for that sort of thing. The only person that she ever gossiped to was Rose, and she was in on the secret from the get-go half of the time anyway. Ben was the only one who had no interest in that sort of petty information, and Rey honestly couldn’t remember saying anything to him that was even questionable.

Frustration bled into her tone as she answered. “For fuck’s sake, Finn, I’m happy to apologize when I fuck up, but I have no idea what you’re talking about.”

Finn hesitated, glancing at Poe. Poe shrugged one shoulder, taking another draw of his cigarette. It wasn’t like Poe to be this goddamn quiet, and it frustrated Rey even further.

“For god’s sake, put that thing out! Can’t stand it when you smoke,” she snapped.

Poe obeyed calmly, putting out the butt with his shoe. A few passersby gave them sidelong glances as they huddled by someone’s pickup truck, but thankfully they had yet to attract a crowd out here.

“My funding got pulled,” Finn said darkly, pouting. “Pulled and redirected to Ben’s fucking lab.”

“What?” Rey and Poe said in unison.

Rey frowned. Finn had been pretty stressed over the last couple of weeks. His experiment was not going as planned, and he mentioned that the board for his grant funding was due to review his data in a couple of months. If he didn’t have something to show by then, he risked losing the funds. But now? That was unexpected, and apparently, Finn agreed.

But what it had to do with her, Rey didn’t understand. Rey had never mentioned Finn’s research to Ben, and, while she lent a sympathetic ear to Finn’s troubles, she didn’t understand what he said about his work well enough to tell Ben, anyway.

Finn deflated a little, suddenly looking much more crestfallen than angry. “We weren’t due for a data review for a couple of months, but somebody sent the grant board our numbers early. The terms of the grant said funding could be withdrawn at any time ‘at the discretion of the board.’ Well, they exercised their right to pull the money and now my master’s work is unfunded.”

“Finn, I swear to whatever deity you believe in that I did __not __say a word to Ben about your data,” Rey said. “God, Finn, I’m so sorry.”

Finn stared at her a long, hard moment. “Someone in Ben’s lab had to have been the ones to turn in my data. No one in my lab would have risked the money. I don’t know how they could’ve known to do it if you didn’t tell Ben.” He looked off toward the distance, considering. “Are you sure you didn’t say anything that might’ve alerted him?”

Rey was hurt that Finn could be so convinced of her betrayal. She folded her arms across her chest, running one skate back and forth across the asphalt. “Jesus, Finn, of course not. I would never. I thought you would know that.”

Poe broke in then, sensing the rising tension. “I’m sorry, Finn. Nothing’s worse than losing your funding, except when you lose your funding to a competing lab. Believe me, I know.” He looked between them, pausing for a second. “And I don’t know Rey as well as you do, obviously. But I can’t see her doing anything to hurt you, especially on purpose.”

Finn sighed loudly, and then he punched at the vehicle nearest them, missing it on purpose. “Fuck. You’re right. Ugh.” He rubbed his face, still filled with angry energy. “I’m sorry, Rey. But fuck, it had to have been Ben.”

Rey’s own anger simmered in her gut. Ben had promised he would never steal a grant again, but she didn’t know him that well. It was admittedly suspicious that the money had gone to Ben’s lab… Not to mention Finn. She knew that he had lashed out at her because he was angry and frustrated, but she was still hurt that he blamed her.

What hurt even more, she realized, was that she didn’t even know Ben well enough to defend him. As much as she wished she could immediately discount Finn’s suspicions, she would be lying if she said she didn’t wonder a bit herself. God. What was she thinking, going out with someone who was kicked out of a Ph.D. program for grant stealing? She was better than that. Even if he was an incredible kisser.

Cheering erupted out from the arena, and they all looked back towards it. The game must be due to start. Fuck. Poe and Rey shared a look‒-they had to go inside-‒before turning their eyes back to Finn.

“Go on,” Finn said. “I know.”

Poe started to jog inside as Rey skated ahead of him. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw Ben’s car. Of course he would be here. God, she could throttle him right about now.

Maybe it was a good thing there was a game between her and speaking to him again. Might prevent her from murdering him.

* * *

Ben settled into the stands in his usual position, surprised that Finn wasn’t there waiting for him. They hadn’t exactly forged a friendship over the past few weeks, but they had grown to tolerate each other. The bond that tied them together was their support for Rey, and the stands of the roller derby arena had been where they got along the best. Ben had even gone so far as to buy an extra beer for him.

When the announcer started droning, Finn was still absent. More notably, Poe and Rey were also nowhere to be seen. The Rebelettes looked a bit nervous, but no one seemed worried that Poe wouldn’t show. Hopefully, nothing had happened to Rey, but Ben felt sure he would’ve at least earned a cursory text about it if she was not going to make it to the game.

Just when he was starting to get worried, Ben heard the scrape of skates on the concrete flooring. Rey appeared from underneath the bleachers, not from the usual locker room direction, skating to the rink and ducking beneath the railing to join her teammates. Poe appeared a beat or so later, jogging in from the same direction. Okay. Well, that was weird, but who knows? Maybe they had some pregame ritual that involved a drink or something. As Ben understood it, this was a big game.

Ben watched Rey, realizing that something was definitely off about her. He didn’t even hear the announcer, too focused on her creased brow as she skated over to her teammate. Rey whispered something to her, and then she took the pro-offered jammer helmet cover. Plopping heavily onto the bench, Rey pulled the helmet cover over her helmet.

She met his eyes a moment later, and the venom in her expression knocked the wind out of him.

Unconsciously, he looked at the spot next to him, Finn’s absence striking him as more conspicuous now. Did he and Rey have a fight or something?

Rey took her spot on her starting line, and there was no doubt that this was not her usual game face. Rey was pissed as fuck, and when she glanced up at him again, he had the impression she was pissed __at him__.

The way that his blood went straight to his dick in response to that fierce look on her face made it really difficult to think. Which kind of sucked because he should’ve been racking his brain to figure out why she might be so mad at him.

Of course, it was absolutely inappropriate to be this turned on when a woman got mad, but Ben couldn’t help but imagine Rey standing over him with a riding crop, ready to punish him for his transgressions.

Before his cock could get too heavy in his trousers, he mentally slapped himself. Make-up sex or angry sex was only on the table in a relationship where people were, you know, actually having sex. For Ben, stuck in limbo between the second and third date, it was more of a risk for cessation of the relationship than anything else.

As he physically shook his head a little, he realized that Poe was staring at him. The death glare coming from him did a lot to calm Ben’s libido, and even more to increase his confusion. Whatever had kept Poe and Rey away from the rink until a few minutes ago (and probably whatever kept Finn away from him now) must have something to do with it.

And as much as Ben wanted to think about it, Rey was coming around for another lap. He hadn’t been focusing enough to know how many points she had scored, but if her position meant anything, she had scored at least four. Again, she was making deadly eye contact with him, looking directly into his eyes as she pushed past the players for another scoring lap. God, she looked like she’d rather be driving her elbow into his gut.

Fuck.

Maybe he’d rather that too.

Ben realized that he could __not__ have an awkward boner if Rey was going to fight with him after this match. There was a list of at least a hundred things that would instantly end their sort-of relationship, and he was 110% sure that a hard-on from how mad she was sat at number one. If they were going to fight‒-and of this, he was fairly certain-‒he had to be sure that he not only respected her feelings, but he __looked__ like he respected her feelings.

In that vein, Ben did the very cowardly and also the only thing he could think of to preserve his dignity: he left the arena.

Standing in the corridor outside the locker rooms, he took deep breaths. It was much easier to think clearly without looking at her in all of her vehement glory. For the first time, he could honestly say he couldn’t figure out what he had done to make her mad. Although, Ben had to admit that didn’t mean much‒-he wasn’t always in tune with other people’s emotions, and it wouldn’t be the first time he had royally pissed off someone without realizing it.

Idly, he scrolled through their text chain. Rey sent a lot of memes, and he had responded to every single one of them with a cursory laughing emoji or ‘lol.’ He had even remembered to send her a good luck text this morning. And he had Venmo’d her the money for the package of Scantrons she had brought to him that day he had forgotten he was proctoring his PI’s exam. He didn’t see any unreplied texts or any meet-ups he had missed. Okay, what then?

“Hey!”

It took Ben a second to realize that the over-aggressive voice was directed at him. He looked up to see Finn striding toward him. Automatically, Ben put his hands up, assuming Finn was mad at Ben for stepping out while Rey was on the rink. An explanation might be hard to come by, but maybe he had to take an important phone call? Finn would understand.

“Hey, grant-stealing fucker!” Finn said again, coming to a stop inside Ben’s personal bubble.

Ben took a step back, reeling. “What?” was all he could manage in response, his brain trying to catch up to his choice of insult.

“Did you need the money that bad, or did you just want to de-fund my project?” Finn spat. “Can’t believe your PI accepted you after what you did at the last place. Should’ve known you’d do it again.”

Deep anger bubbled up from somewhere inside him, somewhere Ben hadn’t even been aware of until this moment. What the fuck was Finn talking about? He had never tried to hide his past. Everyone in his subject area already knew. A story like that got around. But to have it thrown in his face all of the sudden, at a roller derby match? Finn had better tread lightly before Ben lost control of himself.

“I don’t know what happened to you Finn, but I didn’t steal your grant,” Ben said, his anger simmering barely below the surface. If Finn took even half a step closer, Ben couldn’t be held responsible for what happened next.

Rage flared a bit brighter as insecurity reared its ugly head. He could lose his position at this university if even a whiff of the falsehood made it to his advisory board. Finn probably had no idea the probationary terms the university had laid out on Ben’s acceptance, terms that stopped just short of ‘we can dismiss you just because we want to,’ but his words had the power to enact them regardless. And Ben would not let himself be fired for something he didn’t do.

“Right. Just like your lab didn’t get the money that up until this morning funded my master’s project.” Finn half-turned away from him, and Ben was well-aware that that pose preceded either a de-escalation or a physical escalation of a confrontation. Ben had plenty of experience with conflict, being, well, a self-aware asshole. “What kind of new equipment are you gonna buy first? The spectrophotometer I had just ordered probably belongs to you now.”

“Hey!” Ben protested, his voice rising exponentially in the single syllable. “Fuck you, dude!”

That’s when the punch landed.

Ben honestly had seen it coming, but he didn’t move fast enough. Finn’s fist made contact with his chin, and something inside Ben snapped. They launched together, Ben swinging for Finn’s face, not bothering to hold back the power behind it. Finn had a lot more muscle than Ben had previously given him credit for, and he already knew that no matter how it ended, they would both sport plenty of bruises.

Ben shoved Finn backward, trying to get some space between them to either hit harder or take a breath. Finn, however, had other ideas, springing back at Ben’s midsection and barrelling them both into the wall. Ben’s head slammed against the wall with a loud thud before he could get enough leverage to throw Finn sideways against the wall in turn.

They were so immersed in their fight, in fact, that they failed to notice the onlookers trickling out from the stands. They didn’t even notice when the referees shoved through, blowing their whistles in an attempt to break the fight. Even when Poe and a ref started to physically pull them apart, Ben only had eyes for Finn, and he was practically seeing red. Or literally? Maybe he had ruptured a blood vessel in his eye.

“Come on, guys,” Poe hissed, directing the worst of his glares at Finn, who he was perhaps most disappointed in, “cut it out. Now.”

Ben shrugged his shoulder hard, disengaging the referee’s grip on his shirt. The metallic taste of blood filled his mouth and he spat on the ground, unsurprised to see red streaks in his saliva. A quick trace with his tongue told him at least his teeth were intact. Ben eyed his handiwork. Finn had a split lip and the beginnings of a black eye, and his chest was heaving with exertion. Not that Ben was unaffected. He shared at least a split lip in common. Finn put up a hell of a fight.

The refs were saying something. Ben had to focus to hear it, his blood and rage still surging in his ears.

“You two have to leave, or we’ll call the police.”

Poe looked at Finn, his brow creasing in disappointment. Then, he turned to Ben, his expression changing to disapproval and even disgust.

“Alright, alright,” Finn said, not sparing a glance at Ben, “we’re leaving.”

Ben couldn’t look at Finn for fear that he would jump him again. That fucker was going to lose him his position here, and after losing __two__ Ph.D. positions for ethical concerns, he would never get one again. Ben was beginning to wish he __had__ stolen Finn’s grant. At least then, he would have the satisfaction of having hurt Finn for hurting him. As it stood, he would have to be satisfied with Finn’s defunding either way. Or, you know, take the high road and know in his heart he was above grant stealing now. Ha. A fat load of good fortune his good behavior had brought him.

Ben spared one look at the crowd, daring them to say a word or even think a judgmental thought. He knew from experience he had one hell of a death glare, and from the flinching of the observers, he had nailed it yet again. He felt very pleased for a moment, until he caught Rey’s made-up eyes staring at him from the back of the crowd.

Turns out, the combination of disappointment, disgust, and anger was nowhere near as arousing as her previous feral rage. In fact, if anything had any hope of making him feel regret for what he had just done, it was the look in her eyes.

His stomach turned as he began a careful stride to the parking lot. Well, there went the only thing that had bought him any semblance of happiness since, well, since a long time. She had asked one thing from him: don’t be an asshole to her friends. And, even if he hadn’t stolen Finn’s grant (and goddamn it, he hadn’t!), he had just beaten the shit out of him and interrupted her roller derby game.

That would be deep shit for a boyfriend. For a guy she’d been on two dates with, well, that was absolutely a dealbreaker.

Ah well. Might as well make a clean break from this hellhole. Lose the Ph.D. position, lose the girl….well, it was nice and neat, really.

But Ben couldn’t get the look on Rey’s face out of his mind on the whole drive home. In fact, it was all he could see when he closed his eyes to sleep that night, and what he saw when he woke up in the morning. Fuck, wasn't it bad enough that he had a little bit of a conscience? Now, he had Rey to answer to, too. And, goddamn it, he owed her an apology.

So not fair. 


	8. Chapter 8

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello, again. This story is kinda getting away from me (in a good way). Who knew there'd be so much plot? Not I.
> 
> Working on this one for NaNoWriMo--don't have a novel-length work right now, but I'm making my own rules. 50,000 words is 50,000 words, right? Haha. 
> 
> I'm looking to make some new fandom friends, so if any of y'all are interested, you can find me on [Tumblr](https://twitter.com/anonymouslyme_8>Twitter</a>%20and%20<a%20href=). I'm new to Twitter, so I really appreciate if you take a look and follow over there!

Sunday had been a bit of a loss, productivity-wise. Ben had gone straight to the liquor store after his confrontation with Finn, and he spent the rest of Saturday evening drinking alone in his bedroom while watching The Office. He opened his phone at least a hundred times intending to call or text Rey, but each time he saw that disgusted look on her face and couldn’t bring himself to face her, even over the phone.

Of course, that meant that he woke up with a wicked hangover on Sunday, and while Alex had taken mercy on him and left him alone with a bottle of ibuprofen and a case of Gatorade, he had decided to wallow in his misery a while longer. Once he could look at his phone screen without his eyes crossing, he scrolled aimlessly through Rey’s social media pages, hoping he would find a much-needed boost of courage or inspiration that would give him the strength to call her.

It was 1 pm before Ben forced himself to shower and leave his bedroom, supposing that if this was his last real day of being a Ph.D. student at the University of Texas at Austin, he might as well go into the lab. After all, the lab was kind of his happy place, as long as his labmate Armitage Hux wasn’t in his space. That sniveling asshole thought he was so much __better__ than Ben because he was five years older and hadn’t been kicked out of his first program. Whatever. The pasty son-of-a-bitch only got as far as he did because he sucked up to their PI.

Ben regretted not bringing a hip flask as he unlocked the lab door for what very well may have been the last time. The whole floor was quiet. Even nerds like him didn’t often spend their Sundays working if they could help it. The electronic hum of lab equipment provided some comforting white noise, and Ben could hear at least one of the bigger machines down the hallway running. So he wasn’t the __only__ one.

The lab counters were a mess. Hux had to have been the last one in on Friday, or maybe he had been in yesterday or this morning to run a quick simulation. Hux was a neat freak everywhere else (Ben resented his pristine minimalist apartment from the one time he had agreed to water Hux’s houseplant over a long weekend), but in the lab, he might as well have been a tornado. Textbooks, notebooks, and lab equipment tangled together on the workbench. Ben resisted the urge to tidy up. If things went as he expected, it wouldn’t be his problem starting sometime tomorrow.

Ugh, except the half-empty mug of coffee with cream. Gross. Rolling his eyes, Ben picked up the mug and headed to the lab break room to wash it. Would he really miss even his lab mate? Fuck, maybe a little. God, this was quickly heading into tragic territory.

Ben had reached peak self-pity by the time he had dried Hux’s mug and headed into their shared office. He really ought to make a copy of all his data if he was going to leave the lab. Sure, Dr. Graves and Hux would probably publish something that encompassed a lot of his shit, but whatever they didn’t publish was rightly his to move forward with, if he managed to scrape out another position.

Ben set Hux’s mug on his meticulous desk before turning to his own, which was covered in papers. He had gone on a printing spree on Thursday after journal club, and he had at least twenty articles spread across on the top layer, along with four different colors of highlighters. He hadn’t been able to find a stapler that had staples in it, so the articles mixed together organically in some sort of avant-garde science collage. Sighing, Ben set about sorting out the mess. He’d be losing his university journal access too, so it wouldn’t be smart just to chuck them all in the trash.

Almost one layer down on his desk pile, Ben realized that something was off. His desk may be messy, but that didn’t mean he didn’t recognize when someone had gone through it. Most likely it was Hux or Dr. Graves looking for something for an advisory board memo or a grant update, but they usually sent him a cursory text to let him know they had to go digging through his stuff.

Ben found his lab notebook-‒the most likely thing someone else would have needed‒-and pulled it out of the pile. Sure enough, it was open to a different page than he remembered. He had last been working on a temperature study, but the notebook was open to an earlier summary page where he had compiled some big-picture figures on his data so far. It was a little weird‒he didn’t remember being due for a grant or academic review this month‒but maybe something had come up unexpectedly and they hadn’t wanted to bother him for something minor.

An electronic “ding” startled him. He turned around to see the new email notification disappear from the bottom right corner of Hux’s computer screen. Okay, weirder. Hux didn’t usually leave his computer on when he was out of the lab.

Curiosity combined with the fatalistic last-day-in-the-lab attitude made Ben reckless, and he rolled his chair over to Hux’s desk. A quick nudge of the computer mouse brought up the lock screen, but all of the lab computers shared the same passcode in case they needed to share workstations. Ben didn’t even need to really go snooping, as the email client was open when the computer unlocked.

And as soon as Ben saw Hux’s latest email, his heart stopped.

He hadn’t seen the name Snoke since he started at UT, and he hadn’t cared to see it ever again. All of the emotions came pouring back at once, making his stomach feel as if it were full of a lead brick. Snoke, the supposed mentor who had encouraged him to fabricate a story about a competing lab to get a grant. Snoke, who encouraged him to make enemies with the promise of a coveted position in his lab. Snoke, who wasn’t a mentor after all but a toxic asshole who used naive graduate students to do his dirty work.

What the fuck was Hux doing emailing fucking Snoke?

As if in a trance, Ben clicked the offending email.

** **

****Subject: ****Re: Advice Regarding SnokeLab FEA Plugin

****From:**** [lsnoke@snokelabs.com](mailto:lsnoke@snokelabs.com)

Armitage:

Glad to hear the grant money defaulted to your lab. Grant boards tend to appreciate being aware of their money stagnating on dead research. Your data is very promising; I can’t speak for the other lab’s, of course, but the grant board certainly did.

If you continue doing well this year, I will watch your career with interest. I may have room for another student in the fall, and so far, you would be my first choice. On that subject, I’d recommend angling for a new scanning acoustic microscope. Could enhance the strength of your research…

You’ve mentioned your lab mate but not his name. Anyone of note? Their lab data looked very interesting. Perhaps they would be interested in some advice as well?

Look forward to hearing from you re that other issue we spoke of. Text me.

Dr. Snoke

Was Hux so gullible? Ben laughed humorlessly to himself. He had been. He had fallen for the same routine. Hook, line, and sinker. Only one question remained: what did Snoke have to gain here? Obviously, he was angling to get their data for some reason. And maybe the grant money, too.

Oh, shit. Finn’s data. Neither party would’ve been stupid enough to admit in writing to pilfering another lab’s data and sending it into the grant review board. And yet, that had almost certainly happened.

Ben skimmed the rest of the email exchange on the off-chance something more incriminating popped up. There was the expected: the insinuation that Hux should be ‘aware’ of what other labs were churning out (translation: snoop on other labs’ data), a lecture on the importance of being familiar with all of the grant funding said labs so Hux could apply for future similar grants (look for grants you can snipe in your research area), and a sideways jab about academia being unkind and unforgiving (don’t feel bad for stepping all over people). Ben opened all the attachments and found a comprehensive spreadsheet of Hux’s unpublished data (stupid, Hux), and, unsurprisingly, a less-comprehensive but still overly forthcoming summary of Ben’s unpublished data.

Snoke was like a sickening academic anglerfish, offering the seductive lure of a spot in his famous and well-funded lab. He had every piece of equipment anyone could have asked for, and sometimes in duplicate. He and his graduate students had money for side projects, and they all got their name on the many, many publications that went out. Ironically, he was hated among the other, ‘competing’ labs for the same reasons-‒he had an allure no one else could rightly compete with and an attitude that alienated all of his colleagues. His name never directly connected with the scandals that took out his graduate students in droves, but everyone knew he at least turned a blind eye to their shenanigans. And yet, he promised things that seemed too good to be true.

Ben had been on that hook. He had been cut by that hook. The wound still hurt. The old adage came to mind: if it seems too good to be true, it probably is.

Poor Finn. Caught in the middle of this tug-of-war that shouldn’t even have involved him. Carefully, Ben exited from the email and marked it unread. He wasn’t computer-savvy enough to completely erase his tracks, but he hoped Hux wasn’t computer-savvy enough to trace them. He was about to lock the workstation again when the other open tab caught his eye: ****Inbox (1) - ********ben.solo@gmail.com****

__Excuse me, but what the __fuck?

Because it would’ve been bad enough if Ben had accidentally left his email up on this computer and Hux hadn’t closed it. Sure, that’s bad shared computer etiquette but not on the annoyance level of, say, hitting reply all. No, this was bad because that was __not__ Ben’s email address. He used his university email for all primary correspondence, and his personal email was bsolo@gmail.com. Which meant that Hux had created a fake email address under Ben’s name.

Nauseated beyond even the level of his earlier hangover, Ben clicked the tab. Only a handful of emails occupied the inbox, and, he was sickened but not surprised to see the most recent conversation:

**** NIBIB RE: Data from Holdo Lab**** Mr. Solo, We reviewed the data you provided in your last ema…

So it wasn’t enough to be punched in the gut by the reappearance of his toxic ex-mentor Snoke, he had to be framed for unethical and uncollegial behavior. Naturally, Hux wouldn’t want his name attached to such nefarious behavior. And, naturally, Ben would be the obvious choice to take the fall, having a history of such behavior in the past. It wouldn’t be a stretch of the imagination or even a surprise to outsiders to have such a neat little package set at their feet.

Ben had no idea how to even begin proving his innocence. How could he prove that he didn’t create this email address for the sole purpose of turning in someone else’s data to the grant board? No way that he could think of at the moment. But he had to at least document what he had found.

His hands shaking with rising panic, he took screenshots of both email accounts, downloaded backup files of both message streams, and printed hard copies of both the emails and all attachments. By the time he set about marking the appropriate emails unread and setting everything back to how he found it, he was coated in a thick sheen of cold sweat. Everything that had seemed nebulous and accidental and unfair suddenly had become sinister and calculated. Like a noose tightening slowly around his neck.

Hoping he had put everything back to how he found it, he locked the workstation. Somewhat hysterically, like a character out of a murder mystery, he tried to wipe his fingerprints from Hux’s desk. Because Dr. Graves and the advisory board would __totally__ dust for fingerprints before expelling him from the program. God, pull it together, Solo. Gotta make a meaningful plan.

He rolled his chair back to his desk, flipping through the warm newly printed pages. Inspiration lived somewhere in there. Ben Solo was nothing if not resourceful, right?

Finn’s data ultimately attracted his morbid curiosity. What was going so badly that could cause a grant board to pull a grant, anyway? Science was a field fraught with failure. If anything, failure was encouraged‒-even negative data answered a question in a meaningful way‒-oh.

Well, negative data answered questions, but what Finn had, in truth, was no data. Every iteration of his setup had ended in failure. Only the first page of the document contained scientific information, anyway, as a whole six months of work could be boiled down to, well, failure. The rest of the document held a summary of the grant proposal (broken down point-by-point on how he had failed to deliver on his promises), a budget document (demonstrating how much money had been spent to produce no data), and an argument about failure-of-premise (that argued that there was no way to make what Finn had proposed actually…work). The whole thing was ice-cold, in the way that only academic dispassion could be. In the way the author had been so careful not to pass judgment, judgment of the harshest kind had been passed. Because, honestly, the facts spoke for themselves.

Ben cringed a little, sympathetic for Finn’s plight and a little disappointed in himself for the empathetic urge. No one could spend very long in research without suffering exactly Finn’s problem. Even the most atheistic of scientists could be persuaded to prayer by a situation like Finn’s. Having been in that exact position before, Ben knew the only options seemed to be divine scientific inspiration or defunding.

And as much as the situation sucked, and as wrong as what Hux had done was, it was merely premature execution of the inevitable. Finn’s next review would’ve ended the same way. It wasn’t his fault, and it wasn’t a sign that Finn was dumb or didn’t deserve to continue in graduate work. It was just the way science worked sometimes.

__Really__, Ben thought, __the premise is kind of genius__. In fact, in Ben’s previous lab, they had been working on a similar sensor array for an entirely different application. There were some key differences in how Finn’s sensors were designed, though, and any one of them might be the reason Finn’s didn’t work…

Only minor tweaks would be required to Finn’s setup to determine if a change in design would fix the problem. They wouldn’t cost much‒-Dr. Graves, who was always happy to encourage collaboration between labs on the floor, already had the components needed sitting in a storage closet, unused. They had ordered them for an experiment almost a year ago now, but their lab’s direction had changed a little and the components remained unneeded...

Great, so now Ben had figured out how to fix Finn’s experiment (would’ve been more useful about a week ago), but he hadn’t figured out anything that could save himself. He was so annoyed at himself for putting self-preservation in second place that he considered not telling Finn what he had figured out.

But, rather irritatingly, Rey’s voice spoke from within him (the only place he was likely to hear it ever again): __Y____our first thought is what you’ve been conditioned to think, but your second thought is what you really think. __And his second fucking thought was that he should tell Finn what he knew whether it helped Ben or not.

Wasn’t it enough to have a partially-functioning conscience? Now he had to have Rey in his head, too? Ridiculous.

Ben pulled the keyboard drawer out on his desk with unnecessary force. Hating his magnanimous mood more by the second, he pulled up a series of papers by his previous lab that detailed the design and function of their sensor array and printed them. He even photocopied a handwritten copy of the specs and shorthand assembly notes that he had scrawled in his old lab notebook. Reaching for his yellow highlighter, Ben even highlighted the parts of the sensor array he thought might be most helpful for Finn’s design.

Digging a paperclip out of the pile of papers that remained on his desk, Ben assembled the packet with a twinge of doubt. Maybe Finn had already seen these designs and dismissed it out-of-hand for some unknown reason. Would this gesture come off as condescending rather than kind? Fuck.

But the papers he held were in a very different area of study than Finn’s. The sensor array was used for a very different purpose. It was entirely possible‒likely, even‒that he wouldn’t have read these papers.

Okay, Ben Solo, man up and give Finn the papers. The worst thing he could do was…punch him again. This plan was definitely ill-advised.

Ben took a deep breath and carried the packet down the hallway to Finn’s lab. He knocked, not really expecting an answer. When no one opened the door, he tried the knob and found it was locked. Well, maybe it was for the best that he didn’t have to see Finn face-to-face so soon. Ben saw bruises and a split lip when he looked in the mirror this morning, and he knew he had given Finn a black eye.

Instead, Ben pulled a pencil out of his pocket and scrawled a quick note across the top margin of the first page:

_ __I know I’m not the person you’d want to hear from right now, but I was reviewing your proposal and thought these designs may help you with your setup. I’d be happy to take a look with you if you like. - B. Solo__ _

He added his cell number after his name and then slid the stack of papers under the door. If Finn fixed his setup, he may at least get another grant. And, if he was really lucky, Finn might think twice about turning him into the advisory board. Then again, if Finn truly believed Ben was responsible for the defunding, this might seem like a desperate attempt to make nice.

Groaning internally, Ben shrugged. Too late now.

Ben had the fleeting thought that if Rey knew that he had just attempted to help Finn with no real hope of it benefiting himself, she might be willing to speak to him again. Unfortunately, none of that mattered if he was expelled as of tomorrow. Not to mention the fact that if he called to inform her of his good deed, it made him sound like he only did it to impress her. (Not that she wasn’t a factor, but he could honestly say she wasn’t the biggest factor).

Still, maybe a phone call was overdue. An apology, at least. He pulled out his cell phone, walking back through the lab to turn off the lights and lock the doors. Her number was at the top of his recents list‒-who else did he have to call?-‒and he clicked before he could chicken out.

Yet the question remained: would she answer?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you if you feel like leaving kudos. If you feel up to leaving a comment, I really appreciate it and do my best to reply to all comments!
> 
> **I'm probably gonna have to switch update days to Mondays starting next week, so don't be surprised!**
> 
> Don't forget to look me up on [Tumblr](https://twitter.com/anonymouslyme_8>Twitter</a>%20and%20<a%20href=) if you want to be friends! 😊


	9. Chapter 9

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [](https://imgflip.com/i/3ge2ev)
> 
> Bet you bitches had given up on me this week. Rightly so if I'm being honest. I suck. I'm sorry. In other news, the new job is going well. Give-and-takes, I suppose.

“Again? Take a hint,” said Rose, silencing the call and placing Rey’s phone face-down on the coffee table.

Rey giggled a little, more from the alcohol than real humor. She and Rose had decided a girls’ day was in order after the disastrous Saturday night. Well, disastrous may be a bit harsh‒they did win their roller derby match, after all‒but they hadn’t gotten to enjoy the victory after all the other shit that went down. Which led to the girls being drunk on the floor in Rose’s living room, with a mostly ignored chick flick playing on in the background.

“Maybe I should answer,” Rey said. “I didn’t even get to ask for his side of the story. Or to tell him off!”

Rey picked up two empty wine bottles before she found one that still had wine in it. She topped off her glass, choosing to ignore etiquette by filling the glass all of the way to the top.

“No! Let him sweat a little,” Rose argued. She got to her feet, wobbling only a little, to get a tube of prepackaged cookie dough from the fridge. She opened the plastic with the tip of their corkscrew before peeling it back and biting into the roll like a banana. “It’s a shame though,” she added, her mouth full, “he is so, so hot.”

Rey sighed, picking up one of the empty bottles and picking at the label. “I know. Maybe I should’ve just fucked him. Would’ve been a lot less complicated. Then I wouldn’t care about his side of the story. I could just be mad at him.”

“Do you think he did it?” Rose asked, offering the cookie dough to Rey.

Rey set down the empty bottle to accept the cookie dough, taking a bite. “I don’t know,” she said mournfully. “I don’t think so. But then I wonder if I just think that because I like him and think he’s hot AF. And then I see him and Finn beating the shit out of each other at our match and I’m mad at him anyway.”

Rose laughed, finishing off her glass of wine. “You’ve got it bad, girl.”

“What? I don’t!”

“You do.”

Feeling very indignant, Rey returned to her nervous picking at the wine bottle label. She didn’t ‘have it bad’ for Ben Solo. She barely knew him. He told her almost nothing about himself on their first date, and their second date hadn’t been much more enlightening. She had learned only two new things: 1) he didn’t like to talk about his parents and 2) his favorite undergraduate glass had been a freshman seminar on calligraphy (which Rey suspected he continued to practice to this day). Of course, they had spent a significant part of their time together making out, so it was possible she might’ve learned something else if she had let him have his lips to speak.

“I don’t,” Rey protested weakly, as if her first thought when she learned of his calligraphy class was him addressing wedding invitations‒not _their_ wedding invitations, mind, but still…

Rose shrugged, pressing her lips together as if trying not to smile. “You’re awfully torn up about it for someone who doesn’t care.”

Rey’s retort was interrupted by her phone dinging three times. So he resorted to text messages when she didn’t answer. Fair enough, she supposed. She swatted Rose’s hand away to look for herself:

_Timestamp: Today, 7:46 PM._

****Ben:**** I’m sorry I hit him.

****Ben:**** I should have walked away.

****Ben: ****Please, let me explain. If you don’t want to talk to me after, I won’t bother you again.

Rose, who had crawl-shuffled around behind Rey to read over her shoulder, snorted a little. “Apologizing via text. Classy.”

“Rose,” Rey warned, her heart pounding for what seemed like no good reason.

“What?” Rose said, and then, seeing whatever expression currently resided on Rey’s face, Rose sat back on her haunches and did a very good impression of being sober. “Rey, he cares too. No one would apologize, admit their mistake, _and_ offer to respect your distance if they didn’t.”

Rey considered that. She had so often in her life been told she was…'a lot.’ Whether it was because she was too upbeat, too loud, or too quick to share her opinions, she had been used to all sorts of people telling her she was ‘too much.’ Well-meaning foster parents and teachers had recommended she tone herself down to fit in better, to get more friends. Some of her friends had even suggested she play demure if she was interested in a man that stuck‒heteronormative and sexist ideals aside, those comments had piled up somewhere inside of her where they didn’t slice so deeply but they still hurt a little when she thought of them. An ex-boyfriend had once told her that she was intimidating and too clever for her own good, but what stung the most was his assertion that he couldn’t be in a relationship where he didn’t wear the pants. Ugh!

Ben, though. Ben didn’t seem to just tolerate Rey’s personality, he seemed to genuinely _like _it. He had multiple previews of her intensity, both before and during their dates, and he chose to continue dating her, even when she had offered the magnanimous and mutually beneficial ‘out’ of a one night stand. Rey had managed to curate a supportive group of friends who liked her because of her personality instead of in spite of it, but Ben was the first potential romantic interest that exhibited that invaluable trait.

Rose was still studying her, still looking maddeningly sober considering the amount of wine they had each drunk. “You should call him,” Rose said.

Rey spluttered a bit at that. “_You’re_ the one that made me ignore his calls!”

Rose shrugged again, so nonchalant for her level of involvement in the drinking and call-ignoring. “I thought he was just calling to give you a bunch of excuses as to why he fought.”

God, there were so many empty bottles in the living room. Rey wasn’t quite drunk enough to slur her words, but she wasn’t far from it. She also was not drunk enough to lose self-awareness of how drunk she was.

“I can’t call him now,” Rey said. “Drunk calling people you’re fighting with is not a good idea.”

Rose broke out in a fit of giggles in response, her sober facade shattering. “Oh my god,” she gasped between giggles, “you sound like you’re trying so hard to sound sober.”

Drunk girl giggles always seemed contagious, and Rey couldn’t quite suppress the urge to laugh with Rose. “I know.” As they fought to catch their breaths, everything seeming about a thousand times funnier than it was in reality, Rey reached for her phone. “I should text him at least.”

Rose nodded. “Better let me read it before you send it.”

“Yeah, because you’re _so much_ more sober than me.”

“Okay, fair. But two pairs of drunk eyes are only like twice as bad as one pair of sober eyes. Instead of like ten times if it’s just you.”

Rey rolled her eyes. She typed in a draft of her response: _Too drunk to talk now. Don’t want to say something I’d regret. Meet for lunch tomorrow? _Satisfied, she handed the phone to Rose for review.

“Do you really want to eat lunch with him if he cops to stealing Finn's grant?” Rose asked.

“No, but that’s when I throw my drink in his face and storm out.”

“You have this well-planned.”

“Duh.”

“Okay, send away,” Rose conceded, handing the phone back to Rey.

Despite all of her last two minutes of planning, Rey’s stomach did about a hundred backflips when she saw the tell-tale three dots of Ben typing his response. What if he didn’t want to meet in person and elected just to tell her to fuck off over text? For all she knew, he too was drunk and had been planning to get her on the phone just to curse her out. Or, arguably a worse possibility, maybe he was hoping to go with: “Yeah, I did it and you’re probably mad. Still DTF?”

Her phone whooshed with the first reply:

_I was drunk last night. On tonight’s agenda is soberly wallowing in self-pity._

Oh, Ben. Rey tried to deny the surge of affection at his dry sense of humor. He was typing a second message, and she waited with a bit more optimism. Then whoosh:

_Lunch is good. Although tomorrow AM probably includes getting expelled so I request somewhere I can fill up on water and free bread._

Trying not to let any emotion show on her face, she offered her phone for Rose to review. Rose read the messages at least three times before speaking.

“Well, he is funnier in texts than he is in person,” she said finally. Rey couldn’t disagree, although his understated humor poked through more as he became more comfortable around her. “He didn’t try to deny anything.”

Rey noticed that, too. In fact, it stuck out like a rather sore thumb. His self-pitying joke about impending expulsion could read either as a taciturn admission of guilt or a commentary on the tendency of academia to not give second chances.

“Maybe he thinks I wouldn’t believe him,” Rey said.

The truth was, she wasn’t sure if she would. Especially over a text. She needed to be able to look into his eyes as he said it, to see his body language. It wasn’t exactly that she suspected he would lie to her, but Rey had been lied to a lot in the past. She didn’t like being taken in, and that made her overly cautious, especially when it came to people she didn’t know very well.

“Maybe he wants you to pay for lunch,” Rose joked.

Rey picked up her glass of wine. In for a penny, in for a pound, she supposed. “Guess I’ll have to wait and see.” She paused, downing half of the wine in a single draw. “It goes without saying I’m staying here tonight. Hope you have Gatorade and ibuprofen.”

Rose laughed, reaching for the remote control. “Yeah, yeah. Got everything you could ask for, scavenger.”

Ben was a naturally anxious person. He didn’t even try to deny the fact to himself as he sat in his car, trying to psych himself up enough to go inside. The other option, which seemed infinitely more preferable at the moment, was driving off the nearest bridge.

_Stop being so dramatic, Solo, _he chastised himself. _Suicide humor is not funny, anyway._

But it felt a bit like heading for the hangman’s noose. Surely by now, Dr. Graves had been filled in on the entire situation. Hux had probably already told everyone that he had found incriminating evidence of Ben Solo turning in the other lab’s data in a clear act of sabotage and self-service. He imagined that Finn, Finn’s PI, Dr. Graves, and Hux were waiting impatiently in the lab, metaphorical handcuffs in hand, ready to throw him out on his ass.

A loud tap on the driver’s side window made Ben jump. He looked up to see Finn, a worried look on his face, peering in at him. Ben considered for a moment that he should not just open the door and get out. They were less monitored here, and much more likely to get into trouble if they started fist fighting again. However, Ben was feeling more like a doomed soul than a fighter at the moment, and he promised himself he wouldn’t be goaded so easily into a fight today.

Ben opened the door, careful to let Finn step backward out of the way. Finn had the packet of articles clutched in his hand. Finn’s black eye had started to change color from purple to a purplish-red, and he had a tiny scab where Ben’s punches had split his lip. Ben supposed he didn’t look much better.

At this time in the morning, campus was quiet. The parking lot had yet to fill in, with professors and students alike reluctant to start working before 8 am (or even 9 am...). Even though it was early November, the Texas air was still warm and humid, so Ben shrugged off his jacket and left it in his driver’s seat.

“What is this?” Finn asked, his voice just shy of anger. He shook the papers just once for emphasis, obviously working hard to keep his temper in check.

Ben shifted a bit uncomfortably, a surge of guilt rising for no identifiable reason. “I don’t know...I guess I just thought it might help.”

“What do you want from me?” Finn asked. “Do you think that this will prevent me from turning you in to the academic honor council?”

Ben shrugged one shoulder. “Not really. Just a gesture of goodwill. I saw your data...”

Finn’s eyes narrowed. “Obviously.”

Ben sighed, feeling obligated to defend himself even though he knew Finn wouldn't believe him. “I didn’t send it in to the NIBIB, Finn. I swear.”

Nodding as if he knew that was what Ben would say, Finn turned away. “Dude, I don’t get you. These goddamn papers would’ve helped me two weeks ago, but now that my funding is withdrawn, it’s just salt in the wound.”

“I know who did it, Finn,” Ben said, willing his voice to convey the intensity he felt. Not that that was difficult; Ben was roiling with anger at Hux and he was half-convinced he would feel better if he beat the shit out of something or someone until his knuckles bled.

Finn rolled his eyes. “Okay, I’ll bite. Who?”

“My labmate, Armitage Hux.” Ben wasn’t sure if it would be more convincing if he sounded dispassionate or angry as fuck, so his tone fell somewhere in the middle.

Finn’s eyebrows drew together, and, for the first time, he hesitated in his response. His eyes were distant, as if he were remembering something. His voice had less edge when he spoke again. “Do you have proof?”

“Yes, but I don’t know if it will convince you.”

“Well,” Finn said, a bit annoyed, “is it proof or not?”

“He faked an email address with my name,” Ben said bluntly. “I can show you what I have but the email appears that it came from me. Except for the fact that I can promise you that it’s not my real email.”

“And why should I believe you?”

Ben had no good answer for that. “I don’t know. Except that I would like to tell you the whole story of what happened in the past and what’s happening now. After that, you can make up your mind.”

Finn looked at his watch, considering. It was still early (7:15 am), and he wouldn’t be expected in his lab until closer to 8. “You have twenty minutes.”

Ben finished the sordid tale, looking up at Finn to gauge his reaction. But Finn had a good poker face, and Ben was left waiting for his response. He had told it all—well, at least the CliffsNotes version—and hoped that it was enough for Finn to realize that Ben had regretted his previous actions enough that he wouldn’t make the same mistake twice.

“So this Snoke guy is a real asshole,” Finn said.

“Yep.”

“You haven’t talked to him since you got kicked out of your program?” Finn asked.

“Nope.”

Finn considered, fidgeting a little as he looked down at the fistful of papers. “You think he could have something to offer Hux that he would want?”

Ben nodded. “I told you. He has everything—every new piece of equipment, a thousand little grants that add up to a lot of financial freedom, a lot of papers churning out to put your name on...It seems like a good gig until you realize you’re signing up to be his new scapegoat for his academic dishonesty.”

Finn groaned. Ben hoped that was a sign that he, begrudgingly, had begun to believe Ben’s side of things. He had even shown him that his real, populated inbox belonged to [bsolo@gmail.com](mailto:bsolo@gmail.com), and he showed him the compared sparsity of the faux [ben.solo@gmail.com](mailto:ben.solo@gmail.com) account on the screenshot.

“When I came across your data in the account, I realized how similar your setup was to the one we used in my previous lab. I thought that even if you couldn’t get your old grant back, you might be able to get a new one if you had the new setup. Graves even has the parts you would need in one of the storage cabinets. If you presented your ideas to him, he’d probably let you use them for free just to get some data.”

“Do you think he’ll believe you if you tell him what happened?” Finn asked. Granted, he still hadn’t said if _he _believed Ben’s story, although it seemed that he did.

“I hope so. I don’t know.” Ben crossed his arms, leaning back against the side of his car. “He didn’t agree to take me on as a student until he spoke to me in person, and he already knows the whole gory story of what happened before I came here. I like to think he could tell I was being honest by something in my face or body language.”

“Maybe he just knows Snoke,” Finn said.

“Maybe.”

Finn’s whole demeanor deflated a bit. He had the grace to look a bit chagrined. “I don’t know why, but I think you’re telling the truth.” He rubbed the back of his neck with his empty hand. “Sorry I hit you. I admit I let my temper get away with me.”

The tips of Ben’s ears heated in shame. “Same here. I shouldn’t have hit you. But I admit that my past may be a bit of a...sore spot, so to speak.”

They were both uncomfortable in the ensuing silence.

“What are you going to do?” Finn asked.

“Depends on what you’re gonna do,” Ben answered.

Finn shook his head. “I don’t know. I obviously told my PI what happened, but I didn’t actually say anything about you.”

Ben grimaced. “You wouldn’t have had to. I’ll be implicated anyway. If Hux hasn’t already shown Graves his doctored emails.”

Finn winced, but it was clear what he was thinking.

“I know,” Ben said before he could speak, “I shouldn’t have stolen a grant in the first place if I didn’t want to be suspected the next time.”

“I didn’t say anything.”

“You were thinking it.”

Finn didn’t try to deny it. Instead, he said: “I will tell everyone what you gave me. I won’t get involved in anything between you and Hux, though.”

“No, don’t.” Ben could feel his eyes darken as his temper flared. “I wouldn’t want you to be implicated. No point in both of us being expelled.”

After another uncomfortable moment of silence, Ben started to gather his things to head inside. Finn hesitated.

“Have you talked to Rey since?”

Ben couldn’t quite meet Finn’s eyes. “No. I’m having lunch with her today, though. You?”

“No,” Finn admitted. “If I’m honest, I’m a little bit scared of her, and she has every reason to be pissed at me.”

A hint of a smile passed Ben’s lips at that. Ben was scared of her, too, but he suspected Finn didn’t respond to it quite the way Ben did.

“I think she’ll be worse if you don’t say anything,” Ben said.

“Yeah,” Finn agreed.

The silence that followed was the most companionable by far. They started to walk inside together, not exactly friendly but perhaps collegial.

“Will you really help me set up a new sensor array?” Finn finally asked, almost shyly.

“If I don’t get banned from the building, I will,” Ben promised. A thought occurred to him a moment later, and Ben wanted to stop any confusion in its tracks. “And Finn?”

Finn hesitated, stopping halfway into his lab with the door open. “Yeah?”

“Can you...not tell Rey about any of this? I don’t want her to think I’m just doing this to get in her good graces.”

Finn cocked his head. “Uh, yeah. I guess.” A beat. “You’re not just doing this for Rey?”

If Ben was honest with himself, he truly didn’t know why he was doing any of this. Had he grown a conscience after dealing with the aftermath of his last mistake, or—even more confusing—did he have it all along and had just learned to listen to it? Either way, it was an uncomfortable feeling.

“I don’t think so,” he said.

Finn shrugged. “I’ll take the help either way.”

Ben nodded, watching as Finn disappeared into his lab. While he couldn’t quite shape the feeling that he was walking into a firing squad, Ben felt a tiny hint of peace at resolving the tension between him and Finn. If nothing else, it would make his lunch with Rey easier. Maybe, it would even help convince her not to stop seeing him outright.

Of course, that assumed he would be staying in Austin at all. Pretty big assumption, even if Finn wasn’t going to implicate him specifically. Ben had to hold on to the hope that Dr. Graves had believed him once before. Maybe, just maybe, he would believe him again.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Are you guys still enjoying this? I mean, this is NOT what I meant to write when I started this story. But I'm liking it anyway... So I'm gonna finish it either way 😂😂 
> 
> Do you wanna be friends? Me too. Find me on [Twitter](http://twitter.com/anonymouslyme_8) and [Tumblr](http://anonymouslyme8.tumblr.com).


	10. Chapter 10

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I have no excuse.
> 
> Actually, I have many. But y'all don't care. I am trash. 🤷♀️

Rey waited in her car in front of the Olive Garden, watching her mirrors to try and see Ben when he pulled up. She was incredibly, uncharacteristically nervous about her meeting with him. Now that she had had a chance to sober up (and had largely gotten over her hangover), meeting him in person had seemed rash. Rose’s point (‘what if he cops to stealing Finn’s grant?’) seemed more valid by the second, and her solution (‘I’ll throw my drink in his face and storm out’) seemed less and less mature.

Picking up her phone, Rey looked again at the ‘missed call’ notification. Finn had called her earlier, back when her head had still pounded with her every heartbeat, and she had not felt up to having it out with him. She was still mad that he had yelled at her about Ben’s apparent misdoings. She was even madder that he and Ben had fought _during_ her roller derby match, effectively interrupting her first jam and causing her a generous helping of secondhand embarrassment.

Of course, she was equally mad at Ben about that. She didn’t know who had instigated the physical fight, but she also didn’t particularly care.

Rey’s eyes caught a navy blue Ford Focus pulling into a spot nearby. Even as a silhouette, crammed a bit unnaturally into the sedan, Ben was unmistakable. He opened the driver’s door and unfolded himself into the parking lot. He was wearing a blue button-up and khaki pants, staring down at his phone screen as he absently closed the car door. A beep and his lights flashed, indicating he had locked the doors. A moment later, Rey’s phone vibrated in her hand.

_Here. Should I get a table?_

Rey stared at him in her rearview mirror as he approached the restaurant door. Ben was not particularly observant, or he was particularly distracted, because he didn’t notice her car as he passed. She couldn’t tell from his expression what had happened this morning, despite yesterday’s texts from him that he would probably be unemployed and expelled by lunchtime today. She expected, perhaps incorrectly, that he would look in a particularly bad mood if that had proved true. Then again, maybe he had self-medicated in preparation for the worse.

Sighing, Rey opened her phone. _I’m here too. Heading in_.

As Rey entered the restaurant, she found Ben at the hostess’s station, requesting a table for two. When the hostess looked up reflexively at her approach, Ben turned. Immediately, his body language softened and his expression turned a bit meek.

Her whole body heated in response, her heart rate quickening. To think that she could have this much power over someone so _large, _well, it was intoxicating.

“Hey,” he said, his deep voice soft and tentative.

“Hey,” Rey returned, careful to keep her tone neutral. She hadn’t decided how to play this yet, and she didn’t want to choose prematurely and ruin the chance to make a full impression.

“Follow me,” said the hostess, simultaneously bored and annoyed by their awkward greeting.

They obeyed in silence, Rey only observing Ben via her peripheral vision. He seemed almost too scared to look at her, keeping his eyes fixed on the hostess’s back. She brought them to a small booth in a quiet part of the restaurant, setting their menus on the table.

“Any wine for y’all?” she asked.

“Just water for me,” Rey answered, fighting the urge to look at Ben before responding.

“The same,” Ben said.

She took their wine glasses. “I’ll be back with your breadsticks.”

Rey fiddled with her silverware nervously, unrolling the packet and smoothing out the napkin on the table. She could feel Ben’s gaze on her like a physical thing. Her heart rattled in her chest as she struggled to lift her eyes to his. Part of her hoped he would volunteer the story without her prompting. She wanted him to tell her before they ordered, not wanting the awkward ordeal of having to leave after ordering but before eating.

“Rey,” he said, trailing off.

She looked up to meet his earnest, dark brown eyes. His black hair was tousled, a mark of him having run his hand through it about a hundred times. He did that, a nervous habit, but he rarely realized when he did it. She had a sudden flash of memory: her hand tangled in his hair while they made out on his couch. Her cheeks heated with embarrassment at the thought.

“Well,” said Rey, too casually, “you fired?”

Something flashed in his eyes—surprise, indignation, maybe hurt—and he glanced down at the tabletop. “Not yet. Pending investigation.”

Rey felt her heartbeat: once, twice. “Did you do it, Ben?”

She regretted her bluntness almost immediately, watching him squirm under her eyes. Self-consciously, she looked away, counting the trees on the generic Tuscan hillside painting across from the booth. The earlier flash of power that had thrilled her in the lobby now seemed disgusting, regretful.

“Do you really think I did?” he asked, his voice barely in the words. If she said yes, she thought something in him might shatter.

Hesitating, wondering if she should lie to preserve whatever that was inside him, Rey turned the fork over twice. “I don’t know.”

Ben tensed, like a rubber band drawn too thin. For a moment, for the first time since she had met him, Rey felt a stirring of fear in her chest. Would he lash out at her? She saw him clearly in that moment as a hulking man with a quick temper, and she wondered if she should cower. Instead, she held her head high, maintaining her eye contact with a confidence she didn’t feel.

“I _told _you, Rey. I told you I wouldn’t do that again.” His voice was low, warning. This marked the first time he had stood up to her knowingly.

He must’ve realized that too because he took a deep breath and half of the intensity left his body.

Pleadingly, he tried again: “I swear to you, Rey. I did not steal that grant.”

She took a deep breath, stalling her answer. She wanted to believe him, she really did, but this man was a stranger with a questionable past and she didn’t know about his penchant for honesty. “I want to believe you,” she started, then reconsidered. “I _do_ believe you, perhaps against my better judgment.”

That seemed to placate him, even if it hadn’t been the most generous of statements. He scowled only a little at the table, but his emotion seemed to be redirected away from her.

“Have you talked to Finn yet?” he asked.

Her brow wrinkled momentarily at the seeming non-sequitur. Ben had never seemed to care very much about any of her friends. Even if he hadn’t been responsible for Finn’s defunding, she hadn’t expected him to care at all about what happened. She even had the impression that he might prefer if she and Finn weren’t so close—Rey expected Ben was jealous due to his behavior towards Jonathan the waiter on their first date. Then again, maybe he had ulterior motives for asking. Maybe Finn started their fistfight and Ben expected her to soften towards him if she knew. Maybe Ben had spoken to Finn and expected Finn to pass along the conversation in a favorable light.

“No. Why?” Rey said tentatively. If he was expecting Finn to say something to put Ben back in her good graces, Ben might be foolish enough to volunteer it himself.

Ben shook his head. “I just didn’t know if you had heard from him since the fight. If anything had changed regarding his master’s program.”

Rey regarded him suspiciously, not quite believing his casual comments. “Haven’t heard anything. Though, if I’m totally honest, I did ignore a call from him a couple of hours ago. I’m not pleased with him either. I don’t care who started it. You both should be better than that.”

Ben looked genuinely chagrined, the tips of his ears flushing pink as he shifted on the vinyl bench. “Yeah, you’re right. I’m sorry, Rey. We shouldn’t have fought, and we _certainly_ shouldn’t have fought at your roller derby match.”

A little bit of the anger and indignation rose in her chest again, but she managed it with a forcible breath. “Thanks for your apology.”

Rey opened her mouth to speak again, but their waitress returned a moment later with water glasses and breadsticks.

“Sorry for the wait. But the breadsticks are fresh,” she said, setting down everything on the table.

Ben and Rey looked at each other, wordlessly asking if they were going to go ahead with this meal. Rey, as adept as she was at reading people, couldn’t quite suss out the emotion in his dark gaze.

“Y’all ready to order?” the waitress asked, grabbing a pad out of a pocket in her apron.

Ben looked to Rey, chivalrously allowing her to make the final call.

“Yeah,” Rey said finally. “I’ll have the lunch fettuccini alfredo.”

Rey didn’t miss Ben’s sigh of relief when she ordered, and when the waitress turned to take his order, she smiled to herself. Something about Ben was different around her, and she had become more than a little attached to the way that he was so invested in her behavior. She still couldn’t tell if this would burgeon into real feelings, but she wanted to find out.

From the way he smiled sheepishly at her when the waitress headed to the kitchen to relay their orders, Ben must feel similarly. Rey allowed her body language to soften. The worst had passed between them, but she would wait to decide how much forgiveness to extend based on how the rest of the lunch went. Rey wanted to know more of the story of this morning, and the more she had to extract it question-by-question, the more irritated she would be.

He worried his bottom lip with his teeth for a second, trying to decide what to say, and Rey remembered almost involuntarily the feeling of kissing him. If nothing else, maybe she could leverage this meeting for some breakup sex. A weekend of anger and drinking could be soothed so easily by a good lay, and oh how Rey hoped Ben would be a good lay.

Finally allowing herself to sit comfortably, Rey reached for a breadstick and pulled the napkin into her lap. Suddenly her nervousness seemed overkill. This could be salvaged easily, and the outcome could be favorable for both of them either way. Rose would approve. Poe would approve even more.

He ran his fingers through his hair, and Rey felt a little bit of heat flare in her belly. Hate sex, breakup sex, or makeup sex, Rey was suddenly sure she wouldn’t make it another week without fucking Ben Solo.

Poe’s house had become the designated gathering place for their group when Resistance was closed. It seemed natural, given that he was the only one that had an actual house. Rey hesitated to apply the word home to the structure, though, as Poe’s decor was spartan. He had always been someone who preferred to spend money on experiences rather than things, and that was reflected in his impersonal surroundings at home.

It had been Finn, actually, who had encouraged Poe to invest in a sofa and bar stools for their hangouts. Poe had shifted seamlessly from undergraduate apartment living (i.e. cinderblock and cardboard ‘furniture’) to his house, deigning only an armchair and coffee table necessary for his living room upgrade. Finn had argued that if they were all going to hang out at his house (and, let's face it, they would naturally gather there as it was the biggest space), he needed more than a single chair facing the TV set.

Of course, Rey was only thinking about Poe’s furniture choices to distract herself from thinking about everything else. Ben had been sufficiently forthcoming at lunch that she thought she had a handle on what the morning had held, but she had relied on Finn to fill her in on the afternoon’s drama. After she had left Olive Garden, feeling much more like herself after filling up on pasta and making up with Ben, she had called him back. Finn had not grovelled, exactly (he was much too proud for that), but he had apologized and sounded chagrined. Even more interestingly, his spirits were significantly higher though there hadn’t been any changes for the better with his funding status. When Rey had pressed him on the subject, he had demurred, which had made Rey suspicious. When she probed, he became even more evasive, and she suspected he had faked the lab ‘urgency’ that had gotten him off the phone.

“So who’s ordering the pizza?” Rose asked, pulling up the page presumptively on Poe’s laptop.

Poe rolled his eyes, eyeing the group from around the refrigerator door. “Come on,” he protested, coming away from the fridge with four beers in his hand. “I _always_ have to pay.”

Rose smirked, taking full advantage of the fact Poe’s browser was set to auto-fill the password on the pizza place’s site. “Yeah, but that’s because you’re the only one out of all of us to have a real, paying job.”

Poe groaned, handing out the beers. “Ugh, that’s not even fair. Finn works at Resistance!”

Finn laughed. “You know that doesn’t count, buddy. My money all goes to tuition. Besides, I give y’all enough free drinks to more than make up for it.”

“Alright, alright, Poe,” Rey said, her eyes twinkling, “we’ll split it.” She followed up the statement with an exaggerated wink at Rose, who had already ordered their usual with Poe’s saved credit card information.

Poe plopped down on the couch with an exaggerated huff. He muttered to himself, “I supply the beer, I supply the hangout, I _obviously_ have to supply the pizza, too.”

Rey glanced sidelong at Finn, who was rotating through the channels trying to find something interesting to put on in the background. He seemed relaxed, more relaxed than Rey would’ve expected given the day’s events. Even more interestingly, he didn’t seem to be raring to share any juicy gossip. Rey, who was dying to know if the afternoon had held any developments regarding the grant drama, nearly vibrated with the effort of not bringing it up.

“So,” Rose finally said, taking mercy on Rey, “what happened today with the grant ordeal?”

Finn shifted almost imperceptibly in his seat, taking a swig of his beer before speaking. “Well,” he said, glancing briefly at Rose, then Rey. “Not a whole lot, if I’m honest.”

Poe harrumphed, put out that he hadn’t been filled in on much of the drama at all. “Maybe we should start from Saturday, given _some of us_ aren’t invited to drunken bitching sessions.”

Rey smirked. She had been waiting for someone to bring it up, as she was dying to tell the group what she had learned from Ben at lunch. Of course, she had texted Rose a summary (made up largely of .gifs, so perhaps a summary was a generous term), but she hadn’t gotten the chance to compare notes with Finn yet.

“Okay, so from the beginning,” Rey said. “We were all there on Saturday when Finn and Ben got so overwhelmed by testosterone that they behaved like animals.” She paused long enough to cast a meaningful but teasing glance at Finn. “Sunday, Rose and I drank a lot. Ben called, but I’m too classy for drunk calls, so I declined to speak to him.”

Poe raised an eyebrow skeptically. “How drunk could you have been if you could resist the urge to cuss him out?”

Rose assumed a haughty posture as if offended he could even ask that question. “Hey! Even drunk, we’re classy bitches.”

Poe shook his head, waving at Rey in an invitation to continue.

“Instead, we made plans to chat over lunch today. Of course, _that_ had seemed like a better idea when I was drunk than today when I was sober.”

Rey paused for dramatic effect, taking a dainty sip of her beer.

“And?” Poe prompted, used to playing along with Rey and Rose’s overly dramatic storytelling.

“Well, we talked frankly and openly. He swears he did _not_ steal the grant. In fact, he says he knows who did!”

Finn looked at Rey again, holding eye contact longer this time. “Yeah, he told me that too.”

“Who?” Rose said. The .gifs had not been enough to communicate the nitty-gritty details.

“His labmate,” Finn answered, before Rey had a chance. “Armitage Hux.”

Poe set down his beer thoughtfully. “Fucking Armitage Hux,” he said. “Why didn’t I think of that asshole before?”

“You know him?” Rose asked.

Poe shook his head. “I know _of _him, anyway. He’s a fucking douche if the rumors can be believed. Always looking for the next person to step all over.”

“Apparently he even made a fake email address to frame Ben,” Finn said. “He showed me screenshots and everything.”

Poe’s face darkened. “Sounds like the guy I heard about, alright. Slippery bastard. Never could pin anything to him, but all of my contemporaries knew to stay away from him.”

“So y’all kissed and made up?” Rose said, making goo-goo eyes mockingly.

“Mmm,” Rey said teasingly. “I hope that comes later.”

Both Finn and Poe cringed, pretending to be abjectly disgusted by the innuendo. Poe said worse on a daily basis, so Rey didn’t buy the act from either of them.

“So, Finn, any new developments from this afternoon?” Rey asked, trying to sound casual.

Finn shook his head. “No, although Ben was sequestered in some really long meeting with the department head and several of the PIs from the department this afternoon. I get the impression it wasn’t an easy meeting. They sent him home afterward. I think he’s suspended pending investigation and honor council hearing.”

Rey cringed. It wasn’t that bad, all things considered. After all, he wasn’t expelled outright. But, she had hoped that Finn’s unwillingness to implicate Ben specifically would count for more. “Did anyone talk to you about it?”

Finn shrugged noncommittally. “Not about Ben, no. Just about the grant and what I understood to be the review schedule, when they had notified me about the money being withdrawn, and who might’ve had access to my data. Luckily, the keys unlock all the labs on the floor, so it could’ve been any of us.”

Poe seemed suddenly disinterested in the whole affair, the juicy bits having been squeezed out. He shrugged a shoulder. “Ben’s still an asshat, Rey, whether he screwed Finn over or not.”

Finn, to his credit, was more hesitant to agree when Poe turned to him for support. “I think he’s not all bad, once you get to know him.”

Poe rolled his eyes. “Whatever. Didn’t realize you had started crushing on him too. I mean, sure, the guy’s hot, but really...”

Rose snorted, and Finn blushed slightly. The doorbell rang, then, saving Finn the need for a response. Rose hopped up, pleased.

“Pizza’s here,” Rose said.

Poe groaned. “You used my laptop, didn’t you? My credit card is saved on there, isn’t it?”

Rose didn’t answer, occupied with the pizza delivery guy. Rey just smiled enigmatically and went back to her beer.

“Y’all are the worst. You know that, right?” Poe complained on, not caring if they were listening. “I don’t even know why I put up with you.”

“Aw, shut up, Poe,” Rose said, returning to the living room with the pizzas. “We’ll work extra hard at derby practice this week.”

Poe sighed dramatically. “You’d better. Finals are this week, you know. If the Starkillers beat us again, I swear to god...”

“They won’t,” Rey interrupted, smiling. “You didn’t have me last year, remember?”

They all laughed at that. But Rey didn’t feel the confidence, and as she reached for a slice of pizza, her stomach twinged with anxiety. Suppressing a flinch, she selected a smaller-than-normal slice and slid it onto a paper plate.

It didn’t escape Rose’s notice. “Something wrong, Rey?”

Poe glanced over, smirking. “It’s not like you to use a plate, scavenger. Usually, you can’t shovel pizza in your face fast enough. Finally listening to my advice to clean up your diet?”

Rey felt her cheeks heat. “Just hadn’t really thought about the finals until now, honestly. There’s been so much else on my mind.”

Poe’s facial expression flickered back and forth between sympathetic concern and horror. He was unfailingly expressive, and he often warred between his roles as their friend and their coach. “You…You what?” He sighed heavily before starting again. “You’ve had a lot on your mind, for sure. But, _finals_, Rey.”

Rey pulled a pepperoni off her pizza, falling back to her nervous habit of picking at whatever was nearest.

Poe started as if suddenly realizing something. “Hey, promise me something: you’re not gonna like fuck Ben and lose your focus right before finals, right?”

Rose gasped as Rey straightened indignantly. “None of your business,” Rose said before Rey could answer.

Poe took a huge bite out of the pizza before talking around it. “Do me a personal favor, Rey: channel that frustration into the rink. Fuck Ben after we win. Anticipation makes everything better.”

Rey tried to decide whether to act indignant or to tease Poe, but then she supposed she only had one choice. Taking an equally large bite of her pizza, she shrugged one shoulder. “Who’s to say we didn’t fuck at lunch today?”

Finn scoffed, finally turning away from the muted television. “Ben would’ve had a bigger spring in his step when he came back, I think.”

At the same time, Poe said: “Where? In y’all’s cars? Could he even fit?”

Rose stifled a laugh, rubbing Rey’s arm comfortingly. “Aww, honey. Would’ve expected you to walk differently after‒he’s not proportional down there?”

Rey snatched her arm away from Rose, but she couldn’t stop herself from giggling. “Fuck all y’all,” she said before laughing aloud. “Alright, alright. I didn’t. But don’t think I’m going to promise you anything, Poe.”

Finn folded a slice of pizza in half before taking a bite. “Didn’t you say something about wanting her to skate with a wider stance?” he asked, preemptively flinching away from Rey’s reach.

Poe rolled his eyes. “Enough, enough,” he said. “Sorry I started it.”

For all their asshole faults, her friends had managed to take some of the tension out of her belly. She reached for another slice of pizza, put it upside down atop the first piece, and bit into both of them like a sandwich. In a way, the worst was over. At least everyone was on speaking terms again. God, she hadn’t realized how close she was to not having Ben at the finals‒it hit her hard how weird that would’ve been, even though she had only really been on two dates with the man. Maybe Rose had been right, after all. She did have it bad for Ben Solo.

Ben Solo, who was maybe still about to be expelled from the university. Ben Solo, who was a hulking, vaguely asshole-ish engineer who none of her friends liked. Ben Solo, whose hair alone was reason enough for her traitorous vagina to want him.

Rey needed better taste in men. But that was a problem for another time. Now, Rey just had to focus on roller derby long enough to wipe out the Starkillers.

Maybe Poe had a point (not that she would ever admit that to _him_): The sex they would have if the Rebelettes won this weekend would be incredible. Assuming Ben wasn’t expelled by then, of course. No. She couldn’t think like that. By this weekend, everything would fall into place, the Rebelettes would be reigning roller derby champs, and she and Ben wouldn’t leave his apartment until Monday morning.

Mm. This weekend was looking up already. And there was still plenty of time to book a full overhaul at the salon.

Yep. It wasn’t just the pizza and the beer talking. Rey was positive this weekend would be one to remember.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Do you wanna be friends? Me too. Find me on [Twitter](http://twitter.com/anonymouslyme_8) and [Tumblr](http://anonymouslyme8.tumblr.com).

**Author's Note:**

> This work is currently updating on Tuesday evenings. Please lemme know if you're enjoying it. This author loves kudos as much as comments (but appreciates comments an awful lot 💕💕). This author also replies to comments!


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